Summer at Grimmauld Place
by thebartender713
Summary: A continuation of The Mystery Letter which can also be found at mugglenet under theunderscorebartender713.rnHarry's holiday continues with lots of surprises and mysteries to come.
1. Promises and Pillow Fights

** Chapter 1: Promises and Pillow Fights**

Harry retired to the room where he and Ron slept; pausing first to carefully knock to make sure that he wasn't going to walk in on anything that would embarrass him or his two best friends. Hermione opened the door, and gave him a swift smile and a blush before wishing him goodnight on her way out to her room down the hall. Upon entering the room he was greeted by a much happier, much redder in the face Ron Weasley whose smile was stretching from ear to ear.

"Well mate," Harry asked, "how'd it go?"

Ron sighed, and his smile, if possible, seemed to stretch even wider. "Harry, mate, thanks."

"For what?"

"For finally talking some sense into my thick skull. I don't know what took me so long to finally just make my move… but when I did, man, it was a lot easier than I thought. 'Mione is… well she's…"

"The girl you always wanted but were too thick to realize it?" Harry provided.

Ron smiled. "Yeah. She sure is. And you know what's even better, mate?"

Harry laughed, both at his friend's happy disposition, and that Ron had missed Harry's well chosen words on his certain ability to be able to ignore what was right in front of his face.

"No, Ron. What's possibly better than realizing that you've been a complete imbecile these past 5 years?"

"Harry- what is possibly better than my 'Mione being the girl I always wanted? Just that- she's MY 'Mione now! After all these years, I can finally say it!"

Harry had to smile at the new emotions Ron seemed to have discovered in the past hour or so.  
"That's great, Ron. I'm really happy for you- 'Mione, too."

"Thanks, Har. Thanks a million, and I mean it."

"No problem, Ron. You'd do the same for me." Harry replied, although thoroughly believing that he didn't deserve any credit for Ron's happiness.

"Well, goodnight mate. Sweet drea- hey WAIT! What happened with Ginny? If you hurt her again, seriously Harry, I don't think I'll be able to restrain myself from punching you this time!"

Once again, the laughter of Harry James Potter rang throughout the room.  
"No, Ron, I didn't hurt her. In fact, I think things with Ginny are going to be just fine. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that I think she's the happiest she's been in a long time. Me too, really. That's one amazing sister you've got there, Ron, I hope you know that."

Ron smiled once again, and said "'Course she's amazing, mate. She's MY sister, after all."

Harry snickered. "Really though, Ron, I've never been more calm than when Ginny is in my arms. Earlier this holiday I was seriously considering buying a Pensieve so I could start siphoning off my thoughts and dreams about Voldemort- oh come ON Ron, get OVER it-"

Ron had still given a slight involuntary shudder when Harry had spoken the name of the Dark Lord out loud, and although his winces and squeaks had gradually grown less, they were still evident, and sometimes got on Harry's nerves.

"Anyway," Harry continued, "I thought about getting a Pensieve, but now that I have Ginny to talk to and pour any excess emotion into, it just seems like I won't need one now. Ron, you have no idea, when I'm with her- it's like I'm under the Imperious Curse or something."

Ron gasped- "Harry- you don't think that-"

Harry stopped him with a wave of his hand "Let me finish, Ron. I mean, I feel like I'm under the curse because she makes all the pain, problems and worries fade away.  
"I feel incredibly light, like I have nothing to worry about. My mind goes... well, blissfully blank, and all that's left is happiness and sheer joy."

Harry smirked, and as an afterthought, added "That, and I mean, she's a really good kisser, so I mean, it's hard to think about anything when she's- HEY! OW!"

Harry yelled out, as Ron had hit him full force in the side of the head with a pillow.

"Look mate," Ron began, attempting to look serious, but Harry could see that oh-so-familiar Weasley grin starting to turn up at the corners of his mouth,  
"She may be your girlfriend now, but she IS still my little sister- so you best not be doing anything above a G-Rating with her because… oh all right-"

Ron was no longer able to keep up the charade of being livid with Harry, so he continued with  
"Harry, whatever happens- IF anything happens between you two, I don't want to hear about it, and I DEFINITELY don't want to see it, all right?"

Harry chuckled, "All right, Ron. It's a deal if you promise the same about 'Mione. I know Ginny may be your sister by blood, but 'Mione is the closest thing to a sister I've got, and so I really don't want to think about things like that with her.  
"That, and besides, if you two are going to be snogging all the time then I'm REALLY gonna feel like a loner and a third wheel. And if you hurt her, I reserve the right to punch you, too."

Harry smiled at his best friend, who grinned right back.

"You got it, mate," said Ron. "Now, time for bed?"

Harry smiled, "Yeah. G'night, Ron."

They both settled under the freshly laundered and ironed sheets and coverlets, and Harry switched off the light while smiling to himself. Harry didn't think he'd have a problem with nightmares tonight- not when he had Ginny to occupy his thoughts.

Harry had just gotten comfortable under his blankets, when out of nowhere another pillow sailed across the room and smacked him right in the head.

"HEY!" he cried. "What was THAT one for?"

Ron chortled. "THAT particular pillow was for your sneaky little statement about me being 'too thick' and 'an imbecile' for not realizing that Hermione liked me back."

Harry had to laugh. "Well mate, looks like I'm going to have to be a little MORE sneaky in the future if I'm going to slip those insults past you."

"Damn right," said Ron. "Well, night Harry."

"Night, Ron."

Before the two friends could fall asleep, they heard masses of giggling coming from down the hall in the girls' room. Harry grinned, rolled over and caught Ron's eye in the moonlight streaming through the window.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked his friend.

Ron nodded in confirmation.

"SNEAK ATTACK!" they declared together.

They grabbed all the pillows the room had to offer- even the ones off of the two sitting chairs by the window, and snuck down the hallway to the room where Hermione and Ginny sat unknowing that they were about to be pelted with about a hundred kilos of goose down.

Harry and Ron stalked silently down the hall single file, and stopped on either side of the door. Ron raised his eyebrows, and Harry nodded- silent confirmation that they would enter on Ron's signal, and pummel the girls senseless with pillows. Ron gave a wink, and in one fluid movement, they had crashed into the room and began throwing pillows in every direction.

"AHHH!" screamed Hermione, as she tried to grab her own pillow to fight back, meanwhile Ginny was lost into a fit of giggles when Harry began to tickle her.  
Crookshanks ran from the room, and was found the next morning to have sought refuge under the kitchen stove.

Pillows sailed back and forth over the next half hour, Harry and Ron's extra ammunition being turned against them when the girls started using them as shields.   
All four teenagers were laughing to the brink of exhaustion when the door came crashing open to reveal a highly distressed Mrs. Weasley.

"Of all the- WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?" she yelled, and the pillows stopped being thrown instantaneously.

Unfortunately, one had just been thrown as the door had come crashing open and hit Mrs. Weasley full in the face. Startled, she caught it as it fell, and looked down to see what had attacked her.  
The silence in the room was deafening, as the kids waited to be told off for not going to bed when they were supposed to.  
Mrs. Weasley stared at each teenager in turn, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Who threw that?" she asked, her voice almost silent, and Harry's stomach clenched in fear.

They were really in for it now.

Hermione squeaked out, after what seemed like an eternity,  
"Oh, Mrs. Weasley! I'm sorry, that was me!"

Molly Weasley's eyes fixed upon Hermione, whose hair had once again returned to its normal bushy state having been repeatedly hit with pillows.

"Ah. Well, at least now I know who to throw this back at."

And Mrs. Weasley lobbed the pillow directly at Hermione, who was too startled to even react, and it hit her directly upside the head. Harry began to laugh, and was soon followed by Ron, Ginny, and lastly, Hermione herself.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, "I'm glad to see that you four are finally acting like kids again. I was starting to worry that this was all becoming too much.  
"But, even still, it is 1:30 in the morning, and we really need to be up early tomorrow to get to Diagon Alley and fetch all your school things. So, after our late night exercise, will you all please go to bed this time?"

Everyone laughed again, and Harry was relieved that he was feeling so happy to be back at Grimmauld Place.

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley. Goodnight!" said Harry, as the woman he had come to love as a mother left the room to retire for the evening.

Harry said goodnight to Hermione, but barely got a reply in return, as she was very occupied with saying an extra special goodnight to Ron. Harry walked over to Ginny, and pulled her into a swift hug, lifting her off the floor.

"G'night, Gin," he whispered, and brought her back down to kiss her cheek.

He and Ron then made the walk back down the hall to their room, where they both collapsed with laughter on their beds at the memory of Mrs. Weasley acting like they were all in for some big trouble.

"Man," laughed Ron, "the look on Hermione's face when mum wanted to know who threw that pillow. I thought she was going to wet herself!"

Harry laughed, "Yeah- you looked pretty scared yourself, mate. I'm sure we ALL did. Your mom really needs to teach us how to hold our expressions like that. Now I know where Gin gets her ability to lie without batting an eye."

"For real! Well, I'm beat. G'Night Harry. Sweet dreams."

"You too, Ron. Sleep well".

And with that, Harry removed his glasses, rolled over, and fell fast asleep.


	2. Gifts, Grades and Gryffindor

Chapter 2: Gifts, Grades and Gryffindor Mrs. Weasley woke at 8:30 the next morning, and decided to head down to the kitchen to start breakfast before waking up the four rambunctious teenagers at 9. Upon her arrival downstairs, she was shocked into speechlessness by seeing that not only had Dobby already set the table, but was halfway through making a full 3 course breakfast.

"Ah! Mistress Weasley!" the elf squeaked, "Dobby is so happy to see that you have slept well! You like vanilla tea with milk and sugar, right miss? Dobby made some, and he hopes you like it!"

Molly Weasley was still in a state of shock as the elf took her by the hand and lead her to the comfortable dining chair at the head of the table, pulled the chair out for her, and then proceeded bustling around the kitchen making her favorite tea.

Looking around at the once dreary kitchen, she seemed to see for the first time just how many "homey touches" the elf had put up since his official hire by Harry the previous afternoon. The main backdrop behind the table was the painting of Harry that the elf himself had made and given to his master the previous Christmas. The elf had also enchanted the walls of the basement kitchen to have magical windows that reflected the current outside weather- today showed a high likelihood of sun with scattered clouds.

Not long after she had begun sipping her tea (amazingly brewed to her precise liking) and buttering a roll the four younger residents of the house began drifting into the kitchen- presumably woken by the glorious smells that were wafting up the stairs. Unsurprisingly, the first to enter the kitchen was Ron, stifling a yawn and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. After the sleep had been successfully removed, the redhead's eyes widened when he saw the banquet of food that had just been placed on the table. He sat down to the left of his mother, and began piling eggs, warm porridge, and pancakes on his plate. His mouth being far to stuffed to acknowledge Harry and the girls' entrance to the kitchen, he just raised his arm in the air, and waved at them with his fork.

Harry laughed, and sat down across from Ron, Ginny at his side while Hermione joined Ron on the other side of the table. Dobby began bustling around, refilling the plates of eggs and other breakfast delicacies before coming around the table and tugging on the hem of Harry's shirt.

"Yes, Dobby?" Harry asked, pleasantly, " The breakfast is AMAZING, by the way! Thanks! What's up?"

"Oh, Master Harry!" the elf squeaked, looking at his large feet. Harry was under the distinct impression that he was blushing.

"Master Harry, Dobby is making you a welcome home gift, and he hopes that Harry Potter is not upset! Dobby would only be so happy if Harry would like it!"

The elf removed from underneath his hat (one of the many that Hermione had knit for the Hogwarts house elves the previous year) a homemade card and a pair of self-knit wool socks.

The socks were made of deep green wool, and had little number 12s stitched onto them in black. Harry smiled at the elf's thoughtfulness in making the socks and embroidering them with his new address, and turned to open the card.  
Looking down he saw that it showed a drawing of a painting with a large banner reading "Welcome Home Master Harry!" above it. Harry looked at the painting and saw that inside its frame the elf had drawn picture of Harry in the center, with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley surrounding him on all sides.  
The frame had been labeled "My Family", and Dobby had signed the card ("Love, Dobby the House Elf") himself. Harry smiled at the elf, which was still staring sheepishly at the ground shuffling his feet.

"Dobby?" Harry asked, "I really love it! Thank you so much! Do you think that you would like to REALLY paint this picture, and hang it somewhere in the house so everyone could see it?"

The elf looked up in surprise. "REALLY, Master Harry? Oh, Dobby would love to! Dobby will try so hard to make the painting beautiful, so Harry Potter and everyone will love to see it! Oh thank you, Master Harry, Thank You!"

The elf started to cry, and Ginny took the card from Harry to see what all the fuss was about. She opened it, and a large smile lit up her face as she passed it across the table to Hermione.

"Um, Master Harry?" the elf squeaked, tentatively, "Do you think, that, um, when Dobby has finished, that he could maybe sign the painting in the corner, like the real artists do? It is okay if Harry Potter does not want Dobby's name to be on the picture, Dobby just thought that-"

"Dobby," Harry interrupted kindly, "I wouldn't have it any other way. If you want, I will buy the paint and supplies for you in Diagon Alley today, or you can use your own wages to buy them instead, if you'd prefer. And since you are cleaning Grimmauld Place, along with Hogwarts, I will match what Dumbledore pays you for wages, since you are doing extra work."

"Oh, Master Harry is too, too good to Dobby! Dobby couldn't take money from Harry Potter, and he wants to buy all the paints and brushes with his own wages. Oh, can Dobby have permission to get started now, sir?"

Harry laughed, "Of course, Dobby, and don't worry about cleaning up, we'll take care of it."

"Oh!" cried Dobby, "Is the masters and mistresses finished already?" Upon receiving a nod from everyone around the table, Dobby snapped his fingers, and all the dishes magically emptied, cleaned themselves and began to fly over to the cupboards. The occupants of the kitchen stared in disbelief, and then thanked Dobby, as he ran bowing from the room on his way to buy paints, brushes and canvas.

As Dobby ran out of the room, a large golden feather flashed above the kitchen table, and after it drifted down to rest, they group could see that their Hogwarts letters had arrived from Dumbledore.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, "Doesn't miss a trick, you've got to love Dumbledore!"

She passed out each letter to its recipient and headed out the door to prepare for the trip to Diagon Alley.

"Well! Open up, so we can get going! I'll go call Remus, Alastor, Tonks and Kingsley so we can get started quick quick! See you in a jiff!"

Ron, Hermione and Harry suddenly looked apprehensive. They knew these letters contained their O.W.L. results, and all seemed to lose their happy go lucky attitudes. Ron shoved his letter across the table to Hermione.

"You do it," he said nervously, "I can't bear to look."

"Oh Ron!" she admonished, "Don't be such a wuss!" but even Harry could see her hands shaking out of nervousness as she broke the letter's seal.

Behind the usual page of "The Term begins on September 1st", and "your books for the term are as follows, blah blah blah" Hermione found what she (or Ron, rather) was looking for.

OWL Scores  
Mr. Ronald Weasley

History of Magic  
Written: A  
Final: A

Transfiguration  
Written: O  
Practical: E  
Final: E

Astronomy  
Written: A  
Practical: P  
Final: A

Care of Magical Creatures  
Written: O  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Divination  
Written: E  
Practical: P  
Final: A

Potions  
Written: O  
Practical: E  
Final: O

Charms  
Written: E  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts  
Written: E  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Herbology  
Written: E  
Practical: E  
Final: E

As you understand, Mr. Weasley, a grade of O in any of the written, practical or final grade categories constitute an OWL. May I personally congratulate you on your outstanding achievement of 10 OWLs, and wish you the best of luck in your remaining years of study.

Sincerely,  
Madam Marchbanks  
Head of OWL Office

"Ron!" cried Hermione excitedly, "You got TEN OWLs! I'm so happy for you!"

"What?" gasped Ron in disbelief, "I don't believe you! Give me that!" He snatched the letter out of Hermione's hands and read it, eyes growing wide the further down the paper he read. Shaking, he sat down, and passed the paper to Ginny to read.

"Nice one big bro!" she smiled, giving him a hug. "I knew you'd do well! Now who's next?"

Hermione seemed unable to contain herself any longer and ripped open her envelope.

OWL Scores  
Miss Hermione Granger

History of Magic  
Written: E  
Final: E

Transfiguration  
Written: O  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Astronomy  
Written: O  
Practical: A  
Final: E

Care of Magical Creatures  
Written: E  
Practical: A  
Final: E

Arithmancy  
Written: E  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Potions  
Written: O  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Charms  
Written: O  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts  
Written: O  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Herbology  
Written: E  
Practical: E  
Final: E

Ancient Runes  
Written: O  
Practical: E  
Final: E

As you understand, Miss Granger, a grade of O in any of the written, practical or final grade categories constitute an OWL. May I personally congratulate you on your outstanding achievement of 16 OWLs, and wish you the best of luck in your remaining years of study.

Sincerely,  
Madam Marchbanks  
Head of OWL Office

"Well?" prompted Ginny, "How did you do?"

Hermione blushed. "Oh, I, um, I did all right. How about you, Ha- HEY!"

Ron had snatched the paper out of her hands and glanced quickly down to the bottom of the page- the final number was all he was interested in; he could look at the rest later.  
"Hermione! You got 16 OWLs! That is like, IMPOSSIBLE! Er, well, I _guess_ it's not, seeing as you just DID it, but- wow! Good job!"

"Ron!" fumed Hermione, "that's MINE, you had no right to- ugh. Oh well. You would have found out eventually anyway. Thanks. You did really well, too."

Ron swept her up in a hug, and planted a large kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, 'Mione. Well, Harry? How did it go?"

Harry held his letter up for them to see- he was speechless.

OWL Scores  
Mr. Harry Potter

History of Magic  
Written: P  
Final: P

Transfiguration  
Written: E  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Astronomy  
Written: A  
Practical: A  
Final: A

Care of Magical Creatures  
Written: O  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Divination  
Written: A  
Practical: A  
Final: E

Potions  
Written: O  
Practical: E  
Final: O

Charms  
Written: E  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts  
Written: O  
Practical: O  
Final: O

Herbology  
Written: E  
Practical: E  
Final: E

As you understand, Mr. Potter, a grade of O in any of the written, practical or final grade categories constitute an OWL. May I personally congratulate you on your outstanding achievement of 12 OWLs, and wish you the best of luck in your remaining years of study.

Sincerely,  
Madam Marchbanks  
Head of OWL Office

"Ooh! Harry!" Ginny cooed, "You did wonderfully!" and she leaned over to peck him on the cheek.

"Yeah mate," Ron agreed. "Nice."

Harry looked at Hermione, and prayed that she would catch what he did- by her expression he wagered that she had.

"Um, Harry…" she began tentatively, "How is it that you, um, I don't really know how to ask?"

"I know!" Harry cried out in frustration, as Ginny and Ron's gazes jerked towards his sudden outburst.

"Come on, mate!" interjected Ron, "I'd be thrilled if I got 12 OWL's. I mean, I'm happy with 10, but still! What's all the fuss abo-"

"The FUSS," supplied Harry, "is how in bloody hell could I get an E in Divination when I got A's on both the written AND the practical? It makes no sense!"

Ron and Ginny both grabbed for the letter to look more closely. "Woah! She's right! How IS that possible?" mused Ron.

Ginny made a small cough, and the trio turned to her in apprehension.

"Well, maybe whomever was grading your exams found out about the whole You-Know-Who thing and how you're kind of 'predicting' his feelings and plans and stuff, and so they thought that you must have some talent at the subject or something.  
"I mean, maybe they think since the scar and stuff, you can predict what's going on in You-Know-Who's mind and stuff, so they decided to give you a better grade."

Hermione slowly nodded, "That seems to be the really only logical explanation. But, if I were you Harry, I'd ask Dumbledore right away!"

Harry nodded in agreement. Desperately trying to find something to get the attention off of him, he saw Ginny's letter lying on the table.

"Hey Gin, you still need to open yours. It's Prefect year for you, little lady! See what's inside!"

Ginny paled slightly, and then shook her head defiantly and picked up her letter, and whispered so only Harry could hear,

" I don't want to be prefect. Fred and George weren't prefects, and look how successful they are! Ugh, oh well."

She braved a very large (and very fake) smile, and then spoke louder to Ron and Hermione,  
"Here goes nothin'!" she declared.

Hermione, Ron and Harry watched on their toes while she ripped open the envelope and turned it upside-down. There was a flash of silver as a shiny new prefect's badge fell into her hand. Hermione squealed with delight, and Ron gave his sister a hug.

"Damn." Ginny whispered. "I wanted to show mum that Fred and George weren't the ONLY ones that weren't prefects and turned out all right. Now I'm a prat, just like Percy."

"Hey!" yelled Ron in mock outrage, "I'M not a prat! But don't worry, sis, we don't have to tell Fred and George, but I bet mum won't let it wait a minute to tell the world there's another Weasley prefect at Hogwa-"

Mrs. Weasley running frantically into the kitchen and grabbing Ginny into a huge smothering hug cut off Ron. Apparently, she had been waiting and eavesdropping just outside the door for this particular moment.

"Oh Ginny! Is it true? You were made Prefect? Oh HONEY! Your father will be so proud! Oh, Ginevra! I just can't believe it! I- oh, what do you want honey? You've got to have a reward for this! We'll get it today when we go to Diagon Alley! Well, Kingsley, Remus and Alastor are here, so we best get moving! Oh, my baby girl! A PREFECT! Now, run along dears and get your things, we'll be ready to portkey in a minute!"

The jolly group adjourned to their rooms to grab summer cloaks and moneybags, and upon return to the kitchen found that Tonks, Lupin, Moody and Shacklebolt had Apparated in to accompany them on their trip to Diagon Alley. Harry sighed, knowing that the reason they were there was to act as his advance guard again in case anything went wrong, but he still couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed that he was essentially on just as tight a leash in the wizarding world as he had been back at the Dursley's. Even still, with prospects of spending the day with his two best friends, and new girlfriend in Diagon Alley was bright enough to cause him to not mind being fussed over like a five year old.

While Kingsley busied himself setting up a Portkey for them to travel directly into the back room of "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes", Harry and the rest of the group arranged themselves so they could all have access to the kitchen stool they were using as a Portkey.

"Everyone ready?" asked Kingsley Shacklebolt, in his deep voice, "All hands on? Okay then. On three- one, two, three!"

For the second time that summer, Harry once again felt himself being pulled along in a swirling wind of color and sound. 


	3. Inside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

Chapter 3: Inside "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" 

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and the advance guard all tumbled into the back of the twins' new joke shop. Once again, Harry noticed that he had landed on his feet, and was one of the few that had.  
Fred and George came bounding into the back room, and proceeded to help up Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Mad-Eye Moody and Professor Lupin. Harry smiled at Ginny, noticing that she, too, had remained standing when they came crashing in. Fred and George came rushing over to Harry and swiftly bestowed upon him extraneous gifts of chocolate frogs that (having been put under engorgement charms) were three times their normal size.

"Harry! Once again we finally get to see our financial backer!" gushed Fred.

"Harry, mate," continued George, "you know that if you ever need ANYTHING, you just send us an owl! Business is booming, and we owe it all to you! "

"Is it really true that you had that Umbridge bat chased off by a herd of Centaurs!" interrupted Fred, unable to contain himself.

Harry laughed, "Yeah- but it was Hermione's idea, really."

Fred gasped, "No way! Goody girl prefect Hermione got the witch thrown out? Wow!"

"No kidding!" chimed George, "Honestly Hermione, we didn't know you had it in you!"

Hermione laughed, "Come on- show us the shop!"

"Okay!" the twins cried out together, rushing them into the store.

Harry knew that the twins were gifted when it came to their practical jokes, but he had no idea just how many schemes they had running through their mischievous red heads. Their two-floor shop was filled with everything from trick sweets, fake wands, portable swamps, and the fireworks from the year before to things like self-exploding toilet seats and flammable ink.

"Wow!" exclaimed Harry, "You two have really been busy!"

"Sure have," agreed Fred, "And we think the only reason Mum approves is because we got Umbridge thrown out with some of our stuff. Eh, but look- seems like she wants to get going."

"Yeah, we can't have ickle Harry and Ronnikins failing their classes because there were no books left at the stores!" joked George.

"Aww! Come on, mum!" pleaded Harry. "I haven't ever seen the shop before, and Fred and George have been bugging me about giving them input all summer!"

Mrs. Weasley seemed a little shocked at Harry calling here "mum", but nonetheless flattered. She had always felt that Harry was just another one of her children, only minus the red hair. She blushed, and said "All right. You've got twenty minutes, dears, so use it wisely!"

Harry jumped up, and gave her a hug, "Thanks, mum." He smiled, and pecked her cheek before rushing off with the twins to examine the "Privileged Customers" section of the store.

Ron gaped at Hermione, "Did he just call my mum 'mum'?"

The brunette laughed, "Why Ronald, I do believe he did. I kind of figured it would happen eventually, but did you not notice the wink he gave us when he did it?"

"What wink?"

"Well," Hermione giggled, "if you ask my opinion, he was just being devilish because he knew your mum wouldn't want us spending the whole afternoon here. He figured that if he flattered her into it then she would let us at least stay for a little while."

"Oh." said Ron, dejectedly. "Wait a minute! Since when did Harry get so smart?"

Hermione reflected on that question before she opened her mouth to reply, and then she stopped, closed it again, and just shrugged.

"Eh, who cares?" Ron declared, "Let's go check out those "Highly Dangerous" shelves!"

As Ron dragged Hermione across the floor, the adults busied themselves looking at the other items.

"Skiving Snack Boxes?" cried Lupin, shaking his head. "James would have paid triple what they're asking to get his hands on those back in our schooldays!"

Mrs. Weasley couldn't help but smile.  
"You know," she whispered confidentially to Remus, "I wouldn't have minded having a box or two of those myself when I was a girl. But don't you DARE tell the boys!"

Remus chuckled, "Your words are as good as forgotten, Molly. I wouldn't dream of telling them. They might stop inventing if they thought you might actually approve of their products!"

Harry and Ginny moseyed around the closed off section for "Privileged Customers Only" with the twins. They didn't know where to turn first, being surrounded by so many interesting objects.

"Privileged Customers Only?" inquired Ginny, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Fred smiled, "Well, young one-"

"Who has so many things yet to learn about the real world-" interjected George.

"We made this section for our most faithful patrons. Only those who spend a certain amount of total galleons will be allowed to look at and purchase items in this portion of the shop."

"Something that we picked up in some of the really nice Muggle stores in London. If the owners think you've got a lot of gold, or if you're always buying stuff there, then they lead you back to this little private room where they keep all their best stuff."

"Exactly. So we put one in our store to induce customers to spend more gold, just to be able to get a peek as to what we keep back here!" finished Fred.

Harry smiled with approval at the twins' ingenious sales technique.

"That's great, you guys! But what makes US qualified to rank under your "Privileged Customers" category?"

"Ah. Well, Harry," said George, "I should think it would be obvious. You were our starting financial backer, and so that means that you've definitely met the "amount of gold spent" restriction."

"And," added Fred, "you are dating someone that we might just start considering to be our sister. We're not sure if she's earned that right, although she got some major points for being such a good Seeker after we all got banned."

"Ugh!" Harry moaned, "Don't remind me, ok? I STILL don't know what's going to happen with that!"

Ginny stomped her foot, "So what did I get let in for then, if not because I'm your sister? It better not be just because I'm dating Harry or something!"

Fred and George quickly exchanged nervous glances.

"Red hair," supplied Harry immediately, with a debonair smile.

George's face lit up, as he caught on. He put his arm around Ginny's shoulder and led her over to the "Trick Cosmetics" part of the section.

"Of course Gin. You're exempt from meeting other qualifiers because you've got red hair. We've got to keep it alive, you know? Survival of the fittest, right?"

Ginny snorted, "Whatever, George. But anyway, maybe next time I see you I just MIGHT forget to bat-bogey hex you."

Harry laughed, and decided to veer the conversation back into safe waters.

"Flammable ink, huh? What is that good for?"

George smirked. "Well, my friend, I'm glad you asked. 'Weasley's Finest Flammable Ink'-"

"Good to use when your homework stinks!" chimed Fred, beaming.

"You see," explained George, "If you're not sure that your essay will be up to scratch-"

"Or if you just want to guarantee a good mark-" added Fred.

"You use "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Finest Flammable Ink"." said George, with a flourish.   
"You can set it to what specific marks are acceptable to your taste, and if the Professor marks anything lower than that, your parchment will-"

"Spontaneously Combust!" cried the twins, in one voice.

"Ooh!" mused Ginny, "You would get perfect grades all the time! The professor would think it was his fault the essay exploded, and let you re-do it!"

"Ginny," warned Fred, "if you keep this up, we might just let you work here during the holidays."

George snickered, "Yeah. And we might start actually claiming you as a sister!"

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Ginny pouted, getting suddenly serious, "not after what happened earlier today."

"What happened!" cried the twins, in unison.

"Ginny was made prefect," snorted Harry, unsuccessfuly attempting to supress a snicker.

"WHAT!" they shrieked.

"I know, I know!" she moaned, her face getting redder by the moment.  
"You're not going to disown me now, are you?" she asked, smirking, "Because you know it does take intelligence to make all the stuff you guys do."

"The young one carries a spot, you know, George." pointed Fred.

The other twin stroked his chin, in an all too Dumbledore-ish manner.  
"I suppose you're right, Fred. Besides, her mind works in the right way, and that's what matters. Well, we'll still let you come work in the shop, if you want, Gin."

"Yeah," said Fred, "and if you can prove yourself then we'll maybe consider not to disown you."

"Oh, my overly generous, handsome twin brothers!" simpered Ginny, in an unnaturally sugary voice, "How I have looked up to you for ages! To work even as your house elf in the shop would be a dream come true! I have never wanted anything more in my-"

"ALL RIGHT!" they cried.

"We get it!" conceded George. "We won't disown you. Man, Potter, you're going to have a lot more on your hands than you bargained for this year. Good luck with that one."

"Yeah," piped up Fred, shaking his head, "that's for sure. But if you ever get her upset, you should know that she's just like mum. You've got to cut her yelling off right away, or she'll go on all night!"

"HEY!" protested Ginny, swatting her brother on the arm. "I'm not THAT bad!"

"We'll just see about that, young lady," smirked Harry. "Besides, I'm 'Perfect Potter', with 'eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad, remember'? You couldn't possibly stay upset at me for too long."

Ginny's face turned crimson, "Oh shut UP, Harry!"

Harry laughed, and then turned back to the twins.  
"So, how much for your biggest pot of "Weasley's Finest Flammable Ink"? I know I'll need it this year with Snape since I have to take potions still if I want to be an Auror."

The entrepreneurs shook their heads simultaneously.  
"No way, Harry," Fred insisted. "You're not giving us a single red cent for it. Your galleons are no good here. Speaking of which, neither are your sickles or knuts."

"Oh come on, guys!" cried Harry, outraged, attempting to shove some gold into the twins' closed fists. "You have to take it! I won't buy it if you're not going to let me pay for it!"

George just shook his head more sternly. "No can do, Har. Take it or leave it, but either way, you're keeping your money."

Harry sighed; knowing that if Ginny was as much like the boys as Ron had always told him there was no way he was going to get them to change their minds.  
"Fine. I'll take it. But you have to let me pay for two small pots- one each for Ron and Ginny, and you can't let Hermione see what I'm getting them."

Once again, Ginny's face flushed in embarrassment, "Harry, you don't need to buy me presents."

"I know I don't _need_ to, Gin," said Harry, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face, "I _want_ to. There's a difference. Besides, it's OWL year for you, and if you have to keep re-doing the really difficult essays because they weren't "up to scratch" in the first place, it will just help you learn the material better in the long run anyway...  
"Come to think of it," added Harry, as an afterthought, "since I put it that way, add another pot for Hermione. If I explain it to her like that, there's no possible WAY she could object to the gift."

Fred and George beamed.  
"Sure thing, Harry!" said Fred, "But we're giving you them 'buy two, get one free!'"

"But-" Harry began to protest, but George stopped him short.

"No, Harry. That's the deal. Besides- if you read the sign, Mr. Boy Wonder, you would see that the small pots really are on sale for 'buy two, get one free'."

Harry laughed. "All right. Ring them up, but don't let your mum see. I doubt she would approve."

While Fred ran the till and George packaged the items, Harry and Ginny went over to the rest of the group and prepared to leave.

"Man," whispered Fred, "that Harry Potter sure is a quick thinker. I had no idea what to say to Ginny and then he busted out the "red hair clause". I don't know what I would have done if Gin would have flew off the handle."

"You're not kidding," agreed George. "And what about the way he came up with the reasoning to give Hermione the 'Flammable Ink' and make sure that she didn't go off on him for essentially cheating? I never thought of that, even just for advertising purposes!"

"I know!" groaned Fred, "I can't believe we unintentionally made a study aid!"

"Yeah… But since when did Harry get so smart?"

Fred's only response was a shrug.

As the group left the shop, Harry had a hard time trying to tell the twins that he wouldn't accept free gifts from them.

"Come on, Har!" insisted George, "If anything, it's US that owe YOU! You've got a thousand galleons credit here, and anything else that you might need us to pick up from the Alley and ship to you at Hogwarts would be a privilege!"

In the end, Harry left "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" with a whole set of the twins' best fireworks, 4 fake wands, and he, Hermione, Ron and Ginny (despite Mrs. Weasley's protests) had an exploding toilet seat apiece.


	4. Alleys and Amour

**Chapter 4: Alleys and Amour**

Wandering down the street, they finally decided to split into groups. Harry and Ron went with Moody, Lupin and Shacklebolt, while Hermione and Ginny continued on with Tonks and Mrs. Weasley.

Since Mrs. Weasley (much to Hermione's delight, and Ginny's dismay) insisted first on getting her youngest daughter's reward for becoming Prefect and then heading to the bookstore, Harry and Ron gave her their booklists so she could pick up theirs as well. Harry reached into his moneybag and gave Mrs. Weasley enough gold for the books and added a little extra, in case he had forgotten to account for something.  
After a cheery wave and plans to meet at Florean Fortisque's for lunch later, the girls departed to Flourish and Blott's while the male entourage headed to Madam Malkin's, as both boys needed new robes.

As their morning continued in Diagon Alley, Harry, Ron and the male portion of the advance guard laughed, joked, and had a generally jolly time. Heading first into Madam Malkin's, Harry purchased new robes, while Ron had his let down in the arms and length. After the Madam and her assistants had finished measuring Harry and tailoring Ron's robes, the boys were ready to leave the shop to pick up other items.

"Bye, lads!" called Madam Malkin, in her cheery Irish accent. "Be sure to pick your robes up before you head home! They should be done in a few hours!"

"Where to next, Ron?" asked Harry. "Your mum's getting our books at Flourish and Blott's, so what else do we really need besides refills on our potions kits?"

Ron looked at his feet.

"Oh, I um, well I, um, needagiftforMionesbirthday," he mumbled.

Moody looked over in apprehension, "You sure somebody didn't slip some Befuddlement Powder in those robes you were having altered, boy?"

Ron's ears brightened in a flush, "Um, no Professor."

Harry laughed, "You know Ron, if I haven't been hearing you mumble for the past five years I would have NO clue what you were talking about. But, I suppose I'm not your best mate for nothing."

He turned to Moody, Remus and Kingsley, "Where can we get gifts for Hermione's birthday? I imagine Ron wants to get her something a little nicer this year- don't you Ronnikins?"

Ron scowled, but didn't bother to contradict his best friend.

Kingsley chortled, "Well, boys, I think I know just the place."

Winding down a few back streets and alleys the younger wizards had never seen before, they gasped when they stopped in front of a small shop called "Amanda's Antiques and Amour".

Lupin let out a hearty laugh, "Kingsley, isn't this the store you got your wife's last anniversary present from?"

"You bet!" the other wizard concurred. "She hasn't stopped talking about it since.  
"Boys, this is the best-kept secret of male wizards courting fine young witches for the past six generations, as Ms. Amanda never fails to remind me every time I stop in. If you can't find something in this store for the girl you're smitten with, then there's bound to be something wrong with her."

Moody let out a rough grunt, "Eh, well, this isn't really my cup of tea, so I'll wait outside to keep watch."

As Mad-Eye disappeared under his invisibility cloak, the rest of the men entered Amanda's Antiques and Amour with a sound of tinkling bells.

"Ah, Mr. Kingsley!" smiled the woman behind the cash box. "So good to see you! And who might these lovely young men be? They must be quite special for you to let them in on your little secret."

A young, petite woman (presumably Ms. Amanda herself) came gliding over to greet the party, and shook their hands cordially.

"Yes, Amanda!" smiled Kingsley, greeting her warmly. "These young men happen to be none other than Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Ronald Weasley. If any young men were worthy to learn of your shop, these would be the ones."

Harry couldn't help but like Madam Amanda. He wasn't sure if it was the twinkle in her eyes that reminded him so much of his Headmaster and mentor, Albus Dumbledore, if it was because she seemed so genuine and friendly, or if it was more that she didn't jump around and squeal with excitement upon finding out that the "Boy Who Lived" had just entered her boutique. Harry had only been in Diagon Alley a mere few hours, but already he had been ogled, stared at, whispered about and pointed at more than most people are in their whole lives.

Despite everything, Harry couldn't help but notice that Madam Amanda had looked at him differently than he had ever been looked at before, even with the infamous scar he had been branded with since nearly birth. He had the distinct impression that beyond his scar, Amanda was seeing something that no one else in the shop (or the wizarding world, for that matter) could see. Shaking it off, he brought himself back to the real world and listened to Ms. Amanda's inquiry.

"Well, gentlemen," she asked kindly, "just what kind of gifts are we looking for today?"

Ron opened his mouth, and preceded to just choke on whatever words he might have had. Shaking his head, he shrugged at his friend, and so Harry jumped in and informed Ms. Amanda what they were looking for.

"Well, it's our friend's birthday coming up September 19th, and so we need to get her something nice. She'll be 17, and so I guess it's kind of a special birthday, being her coming of age and all."

Upon looking at Ron, Harry smirked, and added swiftly, "Oh. And she's his girlfriend, so he needs something REALLY good."

Amanda smiled, and took Ron by the hand.

"No worries, dear. We'll find something she'll never forget. Mr. Potter, am I to be sure that you aren't in need of any assistance that Mr. Kingsley and um, I'm sorry, sir, I didn't catch your name-"

"Lupin." Harry's old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher supplied. "Remus Lupin is my name, and I'm sure he'll be fine. If he needs help, I'll be sure to step in for you."

"Ah, of course," grinned Amanda, "Well, Mr. Weasley, shall we be moving along, then? We'll see what we can find for this very special girlfriend of yours."

Harry chortled at the glares he was getting from Ron, but decided to leave him under the helpful guidance of Madam Amanda, and meander the shop on his own.

As far as gifts went, Harry didn't need anything special for Hermione, but he did think that looking for Ginny's Christmas present a little early wouldn't hurt. Besides, he didn't want to "owl the twins" for favors any more than necessary. Moving around the boutique, a shiny item in the window display caught his eye. For his best friend on her coming of age birthday, he didn't think he could have found a more perfect present.

Small, and seemingly insignificant in the corner of the window display, Harry carefully picked up an intricately carved wand holder. Small and silver, carved with running vines, leaves and asters, Harry knew that for Hermione it would be a perfect fit. Asters were the flower of her birth month and her vine wand would go along with the vine carvings in the silver. While normally, his best girl friend was quite the practical witch, he knew that she did have a soft spot for beautiful things. Just because her somewhat 'conservative' upbringing made her feel that she couldn't reason herself into buying things that she didn't "need" didn't mean that Harry couldn't purchase things that he knew she really would love.

Smiling to himself, he picked up the wand holder and continued his way around the boutique. While he knew that Ginny should receive a gift from him for becoming prefect, he realized that he wouldn't be able to get that particular item at "Amanda's Antiques and Amour". Gazing around the shelves, he hoped that something might just jump out and catch his eye, like the wand holder had.

"Hmmm…" he thought to himself, "What could I possibly get Gin for Christmas that she really would love, and yet never would think of receiving as a gift?"

As his thoughts wandered, so did his feet around the store. Making his way to the back, dustier shelves he noticed a somewhat large, carved stone basin sitting towards the top. Almost as if on reflex, his eyes widened and he raised his wand to levitate the piece down to his grasp. Barely in time, he stopped himself from doing and underage magic, and called Professor Lupin over to get it down for him.

"Professor," he breathed, "is this what I think it is?"

Remus smiled, "Well, Harry, if you were thinking that it's a Pensieve, you would be right. I'm surprised that she has one. Then again, being an antique shop open for six generations, I suppose I shouldn't be."

"Professor," Harry whispered, in complete awe at the magical object in his hands,  
"I have been thinking about getting one all summer. I thought that it might help to find links and patterns to my dreams about Voldemort, and generally just help me sleep easier.  
"Sometimes it's hard to figure out what's going on inside his head, because when I wake up, the dream starts to slip away- just like all dreams do."

Lupin was silent for a moment, as he thought to himself.

"You know, my boy, I think that might be a good idea. Granted, you'll probably have to have Dumbledore teach you how to use it and whatnot, but I think that he would definitely take the time.  
"I've never used a Pensieve myself, but from what I've learned about them, it's a lot harder to siphon off thoughts into them than one might think."

Harry smiled as his professor, "Well, it can't be much worse than Occlumency, can it? I imagine that it will be awfully expensive, but if it helps us to defeat Voldemort, than price is really no object."

"Well said, Harry," said Lupin, unable to hide his pride at how much Harry had matured over the years.  
"I'll take it up to the counter for you."

"Thanks, Professor." Harry carefully handed him the Pensieve, along with Hermione's wand holder.

Harry grinned to himself. He couldn't believe that he had found a Pensieve. He knew from what Professor Lupin had said, that they must be quite rare, and powerful. Focusing his attention back onto Ginny, he began to wander around the shop again.

Shelf to shelf, top to bottom, Harry looked for the perfect Christmas present for his one and only. Just as he was about to give up hope, he saw it.

Lying on a red velvet pillow, he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. Carefully, as though it would shatter at his touch, he picked it up and brought it to the counter. Setting it alongside his other purchases, he waited for Ron to finish, and then Amanda carefully used her wand to wrap up all their objects.

"Ooh," she breathed, "I've been waiting to meet the wizard that would come in and buy that Pensieve. It's been in here since the shop opened, about 6 generations ago.  
"Mr. Potter, I hope it serves you well. Not very many wizards are strong enough to be able to view their own memories in such a way, but you…"

Harry could feel the color rising in his cheeks at Ms. Amanda's compliment. He was glad that Ron was busy talking with Kingsley about his gift for Hermione.

"Well, Mr. Potter," continued Amanda, interrupting his thoughts, "I know that Divination isn't exactly the most precise art, but in my family there has long since been an ability to detect certain Auras. From the moment you walked into my shop, not only could I feel something about you, I could see it as well. Even if you weren't already special for being "The Boy Who Lived", I would be able to tell you that you are most certainly going to be a powerful wizard, and do very great things."

Harry began to protest that he 'wasn't that special, really,' but Ms. Amanda stemmed his flow of arguments with the raise of her hand.

"No offense, Mr. Potter, but I must confess that I quite often wondered whether or not the so-called "Boy Who Lived" was all that he was talked up to be."

She smiled, "Now I know. Mr. Potter, you will defeat Voldemort."

The sharp intake of breath from Ron signaled to Harry that he was, in fact paying attention to Ms. Amanda's every word, and his conversation with Kingsley seemed to have been put on the back burner.

"I know you can," she continued, "and if I cared to wager, this Pensieve just might help you unlock how."

Ms. Amanda smiled at Harry, and he couldn't help but meet her eye and feel she was speaking the truth.

"Any way, on a lighter note, I hope you'll come back to my shop, boys. I just know that we'll be seeing more of each other… Who knows, but may I dare to say that many a young wizard has come into my shop looking for items of the diamond quality. Maybe you might be two more."

Ron's face turned as red as his hair at this last statement, and even Harry's ears flared up.

"Thank you, Madam Amanda, I really appreciated all your help today." Ron managed to squeak, but then growing stronger with Amanda's gracious smile, he continued.  
"I know she'll really love it, and I'll definitely come back here for her next gift, although I don't think I'll be able to afford any diamonds any time soon!"

Harry just smiled, and nodded. His instinct about Ms. Amanda when he had first entered the shop had been correct. Looking into her eyes, just before they walked out to join Moody, he felt as if there had been some sort of understanding between them.

"So she believes that I can defeat Voldemort…" he thought to himself. "I hope, for ALL our sakes, that she's right."


	5. The Magical Menagerie and Mealtime Munch

**Chapter 5: The Magical Menagerie and Mealtime Munchies**

Moody appeared at Harry's side upon exiting the shop, just as suddenly as he had disappeared. "Where to next, boys?" he asked gruffly.

"I think I'm all set, Har," said Ron. "Did you need anything before we head to refill potion supplies?"

"Yup." Harry answered. "I need to head over to the Magical Menagerie. I want to get Gin's Prefect present."

Ron's mouth dropped, "Harry- I don't have to get her something now, too, do I? I mean- I know Prefect is a big thing and all, but she's just my sister and I-"

Harry laughed, "No, of course not. I just want to get her something, and I know she won't accept it unless I have a darn good reason for giving it to her. So I'm going to tell her it's a gift for making Prefect."

Ron shook his head. "You know, Harry. Sometimes you and how quick you come up with this stuff makes me a little worried."

Harry chuckled, "Nah. No worries mate. It will just help you when I can think fast enough to get us out of trouble this year. Now which way's quickest to the pet store, Professor Moody?"

Moody guided them to the right, and they made their way to get Ginny's Prefect gift. Harry couldn't help but smile to himself at the perfect idea he had formulating in his mind. As they entered the Magical Menagerie, Kingsley took a shift to wait outside under the invisibility cloak.

"So," inquired Ron, "what did you have in mind for my sister? You seemed to know exactly where you wanted to go. Couldn't you have just gotten it at Amanda's? Even Kingsley said that if you couldn't find something there for a girl, then there had to be something wrong with her."

Harry smiled in recognition. "That's true, Ron. You can find almost everything at Amanda's Antiques and Amour, but I know that there's for sure at least one thing that doesn't fall under her category."

"Oh?" asked Ron, raising his eyebrows. "And what's that, exactly?"

"That, my dear Ron, would be a cat."

Ron's jaw dropped, but upon closing it, he began to grin. "Harry, that's pretty smart. Ginny's always loved cats, and has begged mom to get one ever since she could talk. But there's no way you could know that!"

Harry laughed, once again at how much Ron failed to notice about his little sister. "Quite the contrary, actually, Ron."

As Harry turned away to browse through the kittens, Ron pondered how Harry could have possibly known that Ginny had cared for cats so much. He couldn't even recall his sister being that over the top about Crookshanks, Hermione's pet fur ball (Ron could not bring himself to call something that manky a cat), that would enable Harry to notice her fondness for the feline animals. Finally, he gave up, and just decided to ask Harry how he had come by this information.

He strode purposefully over to his best friend, who was presently cuddling a white kitten with bright green eyes, tan and gray ears and a tan and gray tiger striped tail.

"All right, Potter. Fess up."

"Fess what up?" Harry inquired, as he brought his newly selected kitten to the till.

"About the- oh you KNOW what about. About how you knew Ginny was such a cat lover!"

"Oh that?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance.

Ron was fuming, and although Harry couldn't help but enjoy himself, he knew when it was time to end his game.

"Percy told us second year, remember?"

"PERCY? Don't talk to me about that git. How would he know ANYTHING about our family anyway? He was always absorbed in books! More than 'Mione, even!"

"Well, remember when Mrs. Norris got Petrified, and Gin was all upset about it?"

Ron reflected for a moment, and then, "Yeah… I guess so."

As Harry sorted through his moneybag to pay for the kitten, he continued to explain to his best friend.

"Well, Percy told Fred and George to lay off on taking the mickey out of her, because 'Ginny was a great cat lover', and according to him, was really upset about Mrs. Norris. I mean, he was wrong about what EXACTLY she had been upset about, but he was right on her being a cat lover."

Ron let out a low whistle. "Damn, Harry. How do you remember all that stuff?"

"Well, Ron, what was the first thing Hermione said to you?"

"You mean _directly_ to me, and no one else?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Directly."

"She told me I had dirt on my nose our first ride on the Hogwarts Express, why? What does that have to do with you knowing Ginny was-"

"You see?" interrupted Harry, poking Ron in the forehead. "If you care about someone that much- you tend to remember _everything_ about them, no matter how insignificant it seems at the time. Just like how you remembered 'Mione's first statement to you- about the dirt on your nose."

For the second time, Ron's jaw dropped, but this time Harry closed it for him with two fingers. Turning to the witch behind the register, he asked her how much for the kitten and all the other items (carrying basket, food for the remainder of the summer, litter etc.) that Ginny would need to care for it. Harry had paid for the kitten, all of its supplies and walked out of the store before Ron had managed to speak once more.

"Harry?" he asked, more timidly than usual.

"Yeah, mate?"

"Can you teach me to do that?"

"Do what, Ron, buy a kitten?"

"Do… well, remember stuff, and think quick and buy good presents and stuff?"

Harry smiled, "Well, Ron, I'm not sure it's really something you can _teach_, per se, but if I notice anything about 'Mione, I'll be sure to tell you. Fair?"

Ron grinned, "Thanks, mate. I still can't believe you, though."

"Believe me what?"

"How you got so smart all of a sudden. I never knew you were that… well, observant, I guess."

Harry laughed. "Well, honestly, it's easy to miss when we hang around with Hermione so much. She never misses anything, so stuff that we notice just seems… well, trivial next to her."

"Hmm. I suppose you're right. Hey Professor Lupin?" Ron called, "Are we going to meet the girls for lunch now? I'm-"

"Starving!" Remus, Kingsley, Moody and Harry all supplied, in unison with a chuckle.

Ron blushed. "What? Am I really that predictable?"

Moody opened his gash of a mouth to reply, but Ron cut him off.

"Never mind. Don't answer that. Forget I asked."

The group walked on towards Florian Fortesque's for lunch, and Harry began giving Ron some pointers about how he could get Hermione's attention (not that he needed any more notice from her) and how to give compliments in that 'subtle' fashion that makes all girls swoon. Once the arrived at the restaurant/ice cream parlor they found the girls had already arrived and reserved a table.

"How was shopping, dears?" asked Mrs. Weasley, rising to give them each a hug. "Oh, and don't worry about refilling your potion supply kits. Hermione told me what you all needed refills on, so we took care of it."

"Great mum!" said Ron, and then with a devilish grin, added, "Wait 'til you see what I got 'Mione for her birthday!"

The brunette's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You got me a birthday present? ALREADY? You didn't have to do that! Oh, let me see, Ron!"

"No can do, Little Lady. You'll just have to wait 'til September."

Hermione pouted. "Aw, come on, Ron! Just a LITTLE hint?"

"Cut out while you're ahead, Ron," advised Harry, in hushed tones.

Ron smiled, and shook his head. "Now, now, 'Mione. If you're going to be greedy, I can always take it back."

Hermione's jaw quickly snapped shut as she plopped down and spoke no more about her birthday present. The adults dined at one table together, leaving the students at another to talk amongst themselves. While the group enjoyed their lunch, they chatted merrily about many different topics: who would replace Fudge as next Minister of Magic, Quidditch, and possible ways to hex Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle on the train among other things.

After filling their stomachs with all the tasty assorted dishes Florian had to offer, Harry excused himself to use the toilette. Leaving his friends at the table, he journeyed not to the men's toilettes, but instead to Florian at the till.

"Excuse me, Mr. Fortesque?" he asked.

"Ah! Mr. Potter! Enjoy your meal? I was wondering when I'd see you back. You did well on your medieval witch hunting essay, I presume?"

He smiled, "Sure did, Mr. Fortesque. But actually, I was wondering if I could pay for our bill, while they're all occupied? The Weasley's have always been so nice to me, and I want to pay them back in any way I can, but I know they'd never accept it if they knew it was me."

The parlor owner smiled down upon one of his favorite customers. "Of course, Harry. They'll have no idea. Truly noble, aren't you? And here I thought that you were just nice to me for helping you with those essays so long ago."

Harry chuckled. "Nope. I'm nice to people who are nice to me, and don't treat me any differently than they would any other customer. Here are the Galleons for the bill, Mr. Fortesque. Thanks for lunch, and the essays!"

Harry left the cash register with a wave from Mr. Fortesque and headed back out to the veranda to join the group. Sitting down, he noticed that their puddings had arrived. While he enjoyed his strawberry milkshake, the kitten jumped out of her basket and into his lap.

"Ooh! Harry," cooed Ginny, at the sight of the handsome white kitten, "where did you get her?"

Harry smiled, and began to stroke the kitten's back as it pawed at his shirt buttons.

"The Magical Menagerie, of course."

Hermione glanced over the tabletop, breaking her conversation with Ron, to see what Ginny had been awing at.

"Wow, Harry! She's gorgeous! What's her name?"

"Tonic," he replied, coolly.

"Tonic?" asked Ginny, scratching behind Tonic's tiger striped ears, and the kitten purred warmly at her touch. "That's cute! Did you come up with that, or was she named at the shop?"

"No, Gin, I named her. It fits perfectly with her owner, though, so that's how she got the name 'Tonic'."

Ginny paused with her scratching to give Harry a perplexed look, and her elder brother did the same.

"Tonic?" inquired Ron. "But how does Tonic go with-"

A warning glance from Harry cut him off, before he could spoil the surprise. He soon realized though, that he was not the only one to attempt blocking Ron's spoiler- Hermione had given him a very sharp elbow in the ribs to keep him quiet. As Ron nursed his ribcage, Harry picked up Tonic and placed her in Ginny's lap. While Ginny cuddled and stroked the purring kitten, Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley was arguing with the waitress- apparently not understanding how their bill could have already been paid for.

"Didn't you see the notice inside, mum?" called Harry. "They have a monthly free lunch giveaway. I guess we won!"

With a pointed wink at Ellen, their waitress, Harry resumed his attention to his own table. Ellen caught on and began to make up the spectacular (although very fake) details of their monthly lunch giveaway. He glanced at Ginny, and noticed that she was frowning.

"Here, Harry," she said, sadly. "Take Miss Tonic back, before I get too attached. I'm sure her owner wouldn't be too happy if she didn't get her cat."

Biting her lip, Ginny braved her next statement, fearing the worst: that Harry was buying a gift for another girl.

"Who is she for, anyway, Harry?"

"Well, _Gin_," he grinned, not noticing the hurt behind his girlfriend's gaze, "with a name like 'Tonic', I can only think of one person that she could be destined for."

He thought that with the emphasis on his pet name for her- "Gin", that Ginny would be able to figure it out with no problem. He watched as her face scrunched up- Ginny's classic thinking pose. He loved the way the corner of her mouth twitched up; wrinkling her nose and making her right eye go squinty.

"No clue," she sighed.

"Who is she Harry?" she asked, more bluntly this time, eyes flashing. Harry wasn't dense, and he could tell that even Ron was picking up on the way his younger sister's temper was flaring.

"You know, Mr. Potter," she began, voice cracking with hurt at each word, "I thought that after last night and everything you said to me you wouldn't go off buying presents for other girls."

Shocked, Harry dropped his milkshake spoon. It clattered onto the glass tabletop, and Tonic pounced up and began licking at the strawberry ice cream treat. He didn't understand why Ginny didn't realize that he had obviously bought Tonic for her, and no one else. For once, he didn't know how to dig himself out of the unforeseen hole he had burrowed into. Luckily, Hermione jumped in and, with her Muggle upbringing, knew exactly what play on words Harry had used when naming the kitten for his girlfriend.

"Ginny," giggled Hermione, "Tonic is a type of Muggle drink- a kind of seltzer-ey water, and you mix it with GIN. You know, the alcohol? It's called a Gin Tonic, and you get it at Muggle pubs."

Ginny's head jerked up, and Harry gave Hermione a grateful smile, as he attempted to wrestle the ice cream soaked spoon away from the kitten.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny squealed, carefully picking up Tonic off the table and cradling her in her arms. The cat seemed to like Ginny even better than the strawberry ice cream, Harry noticed.

"Really? You got me a kitten? Oh Har, I've always wanted one, but how could you know- oh never mind! I LOVE her! She's PERFECT!"

Ginny leaned over, and kissed Harry, surprisingly on the lips, and then returned to admiring her new pet.

"Oh, Harry! You didn't have to get me a present!" she continued to gush. "Why DID you get me one, anyway? It's not MY birthday. My birthday's not till next May."

"You made Prefect, Gin. I figured that you would get a new Broom for Quidditch from your parents, and so I decided to get you a pet. She'll be quite useful, I imagine. Here- you can put on her collar, now that you know her name and that she's yours."

Ginny's eyes sparkled with tears, as she took the minute green cat collar from Harry's hand and fastened it around Tonic's small neck. The tiny kitten pawed at it and shook her head, making the bell tinkle merrily. She finished adjusting to the new collar, and then settled down in Ginny's lap to purr her approval.

"She has eyes just like yours, Harry," Ginny commented. "Is that why you picked her?"

"Hmm… well, that, and other things, too. But we can talk about those later."

"Awww- come on, Har!" pleaded Hermione, "What was one of them? I know Crookshanks is part Kneazel, is Tonic a mix, too?"

"HA!" cried Ron, pointing an accusatory finger at his girlfriend. "I KNEW that thing wasn't a normal cat! That explains why he acted so WEIRD all the time!"

Hermione gave Ron an evil glare, and Harry smirked, "Later. But I will tell you one thing. The witch in the Menagerie told me that Tonic was the runt of her litter- so she's petite, just like you, Gin."

He reached over and rumpled her hair affectionately. Ginny blushed, but listened as Harry continued.

"And, not only was she the runt- but she was the last born- the _baby_-" he added, sneakily, "of 7. Anyone care to wager how many older brothers she had?"

The three other members of the party laughed heartily, and chorused:

"Six!"


	6. Conceited Counterparts and Chiding Chess

**Chapter 6: Conceited Counterparts and Chiding Chessmen **

The return from Diagon Alley was uneventful, and Harry could feel a collective sigh of relief from Mrs. Weasley and the Advance Guard upon the lot's return to Number 12. Still full from the exquisite lunch at Florian Fortesque's, the student portion of the group waved goodbye, said thanks to the guard and settled themselves in the Library for what they hoped would be a quiet evening. Hermione had grabbed every spell book she had ever owned, settled herself at Sirius' old Mahogany desk and began to put the finishing touches on her summer homework. After many failed attempts to convince Ron, Ginny and Harry to do the same, she finally admitted to defeat and let the comfortable solitude that was knowledge claim her for the evening. Ginny, meanwhile, had settled herself on the Oriental rug and was attempting to introduce Tonic to Crookshanks.

"You do know," pointed Ron, addressing his younger sibling on the floor, "that any attempts of that _thing _Hermione calls a cat making friends with _anything_ are quite—what's the word I'm looking for, Harry?"

"I believe that word might be 'elusive', Ron," supplied Harry, giving a furtive glance across the room to Hermione. "But look- it seems like they're getting along fine."

Ron scowled and Ginny smiled at the raven-haired boy. Apparently, the memory of being tricked into believing that his previous pet was in fact 'really a rat' by someone as dimwitted as Peter Pettigrew still had not lessened its clenches on Ron's pride.

"Must really be a kitten, then," Ron admitted after quite some time. "Nice choice, Har. I haven't seen Gin that happy in a long time."

"Get used to it, mate. I plan on keeping her happy."

Ron grinned, "You better. You remember our agreement, right?"

"Yes I do, Ron. If I hurt Ginny, you have every right to pummel me into oblivion. But do _you _remember the other side of that agreement?"

"You know, Harry, I don't quite call an 'other side', no. All I recall is threatening to lock you in that Vanishing Cabinet once we're back at Hogwarts if you hurt my baby sister."

A glare from Ginny went unnoticed by the elder redhead, but she resolved to the fact that Harry would handle it and continued playing with the two cats on the carpet.

"Ah, well, maybe if you will shift your gaze slightly to the right- you will find your memory recalled."

"Oh, and just what might _recall_ this supposed other side of our agreement? How do I know you're not just making this all up?"

"I'd say the rather piercing glare 'Mione is giving you at this moment might just recall that 'other side' for you quite nicely."

Ron turned, and had the grace to look ashamed of himself.

"Sorry, 'Mione. Crookshanks isn't all that bad. I guess I'm just still sore that a cat could see through Scabbers when I couldn't."

"Quite all right, Ronald," she sniffed. "But I hope in the future you will abstain from making any further comments about my Crookey."

Hermione returned to her homework, and Harry grinned cheekily at his best friend.

"Now you remember?"

"Yeah," admitted Ron, sulkily. "I hurt 'Mione and _you _get to pound _me _into oblivion."

"Right you are, mate," said Harry defiantly. Then, seeing the hurt in his friend's eyes (presumably from the scathing look he had gotten from his 'one true love' for insulting her cat), Harry considerately changed the subject.

"Fancy some Gobstones, Ron? Or maybe a game of Exploding Snap?"

Ron's disposition immediately brightened. "How 'bout some chess? I thought I saw a really handsome set over in the bookcase."

Knowing that he would lose miserably, but realizing that his friend really needed a 'pick-me-up', Harry agreed. If he was ever going to gain any skill at Wizard's Chess, he might as well learn from someone like Ron.

"Set it up, Ron," and Harry waved his hand to beckon over two of the large floor pillows.

Everyone else in the room was too preoccupied (Ginny with the cats, Ron with the chessboard and Hermione with her books) to notice the wandless magic Harry had just performed. Ron brought over the chess set and Harry noticed just how handsome it was. The black pieces were made of Onyx, and the white were made of Waterford Crystal. Harry didn't have much time to reflect on the finery of the game pieces before Ron interrupted his thoughts.

"White or Black, Har?"

"You pick. Doesn't matter to me."

The game began. After about twelve moves, Ron began to snigger.

"What's so funny?" asked Harry, concentrating on his side of the board.

"Oh, nothing," giggled Ron, obviously lying.

"Spit it out, Ron. If I'm doing something dumb, you should tell me. I can see right through your little act."

"No way! I'm not telling you squat. You may be able to see through my act, but your absolutely BLIND when it comes to the board. You sure you don't need those glasses checked, mate?"

"Fine then. Be that way."

A moment to think, and Harry made his move.

"Bishop Two to C-3."

"Ooh… I am SO going to get you."

"Hold on a second. Don't you dare move a single square, Bishop."

"Oh I don't _dare_ do anything under your idiotic instruction," muttered the Bishop, "as I know it will lead to certain death."

Harry turned to Ron, not hearing what his Chessman had just said.

"What makes you so positive, Ron?" he challenged in outrage; as he couldn't possibly fathom the move Ron could be developing to get his second Bishop.

"Oh, you'll see," smirked the redhead in an all too Malfoy-ish manner.

"Ron!" cried Harry indignantly. "You're supposed to be my friend! How am I supposed to learn this dumb game if you won't help me?"

Ron just shook his head and laughed. "Harry, it's really obvious. If you can't even see it then there's really nothing I can do to help you."

"ARGH! Fine. I'll make a different move then."

"Hey! YOU! Stupid Dolt!" yelped one of Harry's chessmen as he picked it up in the Muggle fashion to place it in another square.

"Put me down! AHH- don't move me there! Can't you see he's going to get me with his Rook? What kind of moron ARE you?"

Harry groaned, but set the Knight back down.

"For your information," he said irritably to the Knight, "Ron's after my Bishop! He just told me so!"

"Gee, Harry," cackled Ron, "I was going to start telling you off, but it looks like your Chessmen are doing a pretty good job of it themselves."

"Who you calling MEN, there Carrot Top?" cried the White Queen, in fury.

"Now, now. You know what I mean. My apologies, Your Majesty."

"That's better."

"HEY!" bellowed Harry. "You can apologize to an **inanimate object**, but you're going to just sit there and criticize me? Thanks a lot, Ron!"

"Watch who you're calling 'inanimate', buster!" yelled Harry's King in his squeaky Chess-sized voice, shaking his fist.

"You won't think this sword is so inanimate when it's shoved up your—"

"ALL RIGHT!" Harry howled, amidst Ron's giggles. "Knight to E-5 then."

The Black Knight grumbled to his teammates as he moved across the board. "Of _all_ the stupid moves, Scarhead over there picks this one."

Then, audibly to Harry the Knight cried, "Thanks a lot, jerk! Now his PAWN is going to take me! What an insult!"

"What!" Harry gasped. "Oh, shit!"

"HA!" cried Ron, triumphantly, edging his Pawn forward with a simple command of 'Pawn to E-5'.

"CHECK! Eat that, Potter!"

After twenty grueling minutes, Harry lost rather morbidly.

"Play again?" Ron asked eagerly, already setting up the board for another go.

Harry shrugged.

"Sure. I have nothing else to do. All my homework's done."

Ron's jaw nearly hit the floor. Even Hermione broke away from her several texts and essays to give her friend a rare look of pride.

"How!" Ron whined. "We've only been here for like, 3 days and that NEWT entry essay Snape set is nearly impossible!"

"What do you think I do with all my time at the Dursley's, Ron, play with Dudley?" Harry snorted good-naturedly.

"Come on! You're kidding me, right?"

Ron chuckled at his obvious blunder. "Good point, mate. Did his leg ever heal?"

Harry laughed. "Not that I know of, and not that I care, really. Muggle doctors take a really long time to heal broken bones- they've got to re-set the it in the right position, and then you have to wear a cast for something like six weeks."

"What's a 'kah-st'?" asked Ron, confused by the Muggle terminology.

"Never mind, it's not important. It just means that Dudley can't chase around little kids for over a month.

"Ready for another game? I just might beat you this time."

"Yeah, right, Potter. I doubt that."

"You're on, Weasley."

Game two began to commence. Halfway through, Ginny came over to watch, as the cats were curled up on the chair by the fire together enjoying a nap. Politely, out of respect for her boyfriend, she did not offer hints over his shoulder (even though he desperately needed it). Growing up with six brothers, Ginny knew how boys liked to make their own mistakes, and she especially knew how when it came to games of strategy they did **not **appreciate assistance from girls, no matter how helpful it may be.

"Got your Queen, Harry! Hahahaha! I can't _believe _you fell for that move again! I just did that last time!"

Harry began to mutter to himself, cursing not only Ron, but also himself for making the same mistake twice. He took much longer to think before making his next move.

"HA! Check!" he cried triumphantly, punching a fist into the air.

Ron didn't bat an eye before moving his King out of danger. With a large, dramatic yawn, he told Harry it was once again his turn.

"Fricken… stupid chess… hate this… had to go and do… such a dumb game…" Harry muttered incoherently.

"What was that, Harry?" teased Ron. "Getting a little upset? Is Big Bad Wonald beating da widdle boy-who-wived at nasty wasty chess?"

"Shut it, Ron."

"Fine. Check."

"WHAT? HOW?"

"Right there."

"Damn. Bishop One to F-6."

"You sure about that, big man?" asked Ron and 'Bishop One' simultaneously, Ron with a cheeky grin and the Bishop with a look of forlorn.

"Yes!" cried Harry, frantically looking over the chessboard and seeing no possible blunders.

"What could **possibly** be wrong with that move?"

"This," replied Ron, a distinct air of smugness in his voice. "Checkmate."

"Damn!" cried Harry, shoving the board away from himself. "No more. Nope. Not for me. I'm not playing this stupid game EVER again!"

"We'll see about that. I know you too well, Har. You'll be BEGGING to play me again by tomorrow evening in attempts to redeem yourself."

Harry only crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his friend and the Chessmen that continued to taunt him. Ron paraded himself around the room dancing over the couches and singing, "I am the chess MASTER!" loud enough that Mrs. Weasley came up from the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about.

"Ron beat Harry at chess, mum," whispered Ginny, attempting to conceal a giggle to spare Harry's feelings any further trauma.

"Twice," added Hermione, torn between horror and hysterics at the display her beau was putting on in the middle of the library.

"Humph," said Harry, grouchily.


	7. The Dreaded Dream Depiction

**Chapter 7: The Dreaded Dream Depiction**

Mrs. Weasley smiled, and turned to Harry who was sulking on one of the few disrupted armchairs.

"Don't worry about it, dear. You'll get him next time."

"Humph," Harry said, again.

Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Any way, it's about time you lot started heading up to bed. Knowing you, there's bound to be shenanigans before you actually turn in tonight, and so I'd rather send you up now."

"Humph," said Harry, one last time.

He, Hermione and Ginny headed toward the door, leaving Mrs. Weasley to round up her youngest son.

Hermione giggled, "Now you know why I stopped playing him after first year. He's awful."

Now it was Ginny's turn to harrumph. "Yeah, just be thankful you didn't have to grow up with that. Every match, without fail he had some sort of antic planned out. I must say though, Harry, that this is by far the worst I've ever seen it."

"If that's supposed to be comforting, Gin, it's really not," said Harry, but the girls could tell that it had still made him feel better all the same. Knowing that this was a normal routine from Ron (and that he wasn't just gloating at having finally beaten Harry at something) had lightened his mood quite considerably, not that he would ever admit it.

"Well, I'm off to bed," yawned Hermione. "Those essays really made me sleepy."

"No kidding. I thought the one from Snape was particularly murderous," Harry admitted, "but don't tell Ron."

Hermione laughed. "Well, if you're still speaking to him by the time he comes up, will you ask him to come in and tell me goodnight?"

"Sure, 'Mione. Good night."

Hermione paused for a second, and then asked, "Harry? Did you say downstairs that you did ALL the essays while you were still at the Dursley's?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, um, because we didn't even have our OWL scores back at that time. How would you have known which entry essays to do for NEWT's?"

Harry blushed, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, 'Mione, to be honest I was so bored that I did all of them, except History of Magic. I figured it to be pointless with the way I ran out of there halfway through."

Hermione and Ginny's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Wow, Har!" beamed his brown-haired friend. "I'm really impressed! Maybe I should ask you to review _my _essays when I'm finished."

He shrugged again, "Sure, if you really want me to I will. We can trade. I'll look over yours and you can look at mine, but I bet all I'll be able to say is 'you forgot to dot one of your I's' or something."

"Great! Thanks, Harry! Well, good night, you guys."

Harry hugged Hermione, picked her up and twirled her around in the way that had been customary for them ever since fourth year and wished her good night.

As she retreated down the hallway to the girls' room, Ginny smiled.

"You know, Mr. Potter, anyone other than 'Mione and they would be hexed before they could say 'Snitch'. But with you two, it's just cute. I wish I had a friend like how 'Mione has you."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I know what you mean. You and Ron are close, but you're brother and sister so it doesn't really count."

Ginny inclined her head in affirmation. "Well, good things come to those who wait," she declared wisely.

"You're telling me," grinned Harry cheekily. "I had to wait five years for you to start talking to me, but it was worth it."

Ginny punched him lightly on the arm, "HEY!"

"It's true, Gin. Don't deny it."

She blushed, "Yeah, it is, but that still doesn't give you right to tease me about it."

"Oh, quite the contrary, Miss Weasley, I believe it does."

She sighed, "Fine. Be that way. Good night."

And she began to stalk off down the hall to her room, but Harry caught up easily as he was already in close pursuit before she had taken her first full step. Grabbing her around the waist, he spun her around, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

"Put me DOWN!" she cried in outrage, though Harry could hear the laughter behind her voice.

"And if I don't?" he asked evilly.

"I'll spank you. I have quite easy access from up here you know!"

"Fair enough," Harry said, and dropped her gently back to the ground.

This resulted in another punch from the vivacious redhead, although this one wasn't quite as on target since her hair was in her face. Frustrated, she attempted to blow it out of her eyes.

Harry chuckled, "Don't, Gin. It looks really cute that way."

"Oh what, because it hides half my face?" she laughed.

"You don't have to see your _entire_ face to know that its attractive. It's mysterious- like those Muggle fashion models that pose outside. Their hair is always in their face because of the wind."

"I see…" she replied playfully, raising her eyebrows. "And what have you been doing looking at Muggle fashion models?"

"Well, seeing as I don't have a picture of you, now do I?"

Ginny opened her mouth to reply, but evidently could find nothing to say. Harry laughed, and leaned down to peck her on the lips.

"Good night, Gin. Sleep well, ok?"

She smiled, "Thanks, Harry. I will."

After kissing her once more, Harry returned to his room to find Ron changing into his nightclothes.

"Hermione wanted you to come in and say good night," he informed him, with no hint of a grudge from the redhead's previous antics.

"Thanks, mate. I'll be back, then."

"Okay. Night, Ron."

After Ron had left and shut the door, Harry grabbed his pajamas out of the wardrobe and donned them. Pulling back the blankets and climbing underneath, Harry attempted to fall asleep. A few minutes passed before he realized that the torches were still flaming, and so with a wave of his hand he extinguished them. Smiling to himself as he nestled in for the night, he couldn't help but be pleased at the way his wandless magic had been improving since his return to the wizarding world.

An hour passed by, and a thought wondering why Ron wasn't back yet briefly entered Harry's mind before he pushed it aside and attempted to sleep once again. Finally, after what seemed like years of tossing and turning, the Boy Who Lived finally ensnared the elusive thing called sleep.

_He opened his eyes to view a room that he had hoped he would never see again- the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. _

"_Harry…" whispered a voice from no distinct direction, although Harry felt as if it was almost inside his head it was so close._

_Making a swift circle, he checked the room for any eavesdroppers and the proceeded toward the veil._

"_Harry…"_

"_Who's there!" he asked tensely, his voice barely audible._

_Unsheathing his wand in a way that was becoming second nature to him, the boy made another circle to check for intruders. _

"_Harry Potter…"_

_Now he was beginning to get annoyed. _

"_Look, I know I'm dreaming, so why don't you just bugger off?" he replied quite heatedly to the eerie whisper._

"_Harry… listen to me. There is a place, a place you must find. The key lies within."_

_The boy sighed, and sat down on the raised platform facing away from the veil. He knew he was dreaming, but how could he get out of here? He had been in this room before (much to his dismay) and all of the regular exits were no longer visible._

"_Harry…"_

"_LOOK! Sod off, will you? I just want to wake up. This is the last place I want to be right now, especially listening to a creepy voice. In case you don't remember, the last time I was here the only person I ever knew to be anything like a parent was killed."_

_His voice began to choke with the memory of his late Godfather. Every reminiscence he had repressed into his subconscious since his arrival at Number 12, Grimmauld Place was fighting its way to the surface. Harry found that in this weakened state of consciousness he was unable to stop them. A choked sob threatened to escape his throat._

"_Harry, it does you no good to get upset. We're trying to help."_

_The voice paused, and then in what Harry could only infer to be a broken whisper, it continued- _

"_Those that we love never truly leave us."_

_The head of the black haired boy jerked up._

"_Sirius? Is that you?"_

_Shaking his head, he attempted to gather his senses._

"_No, it can't be. Sirius is dead," he told himself firmly. "Nothing you can say or do will bring him back, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can begin to heal._

_Then aloud, "All right- I have had enough. POTTER! WAKE UP! OY! You, in the bed up there! Get up, you git, and get me out of here!"_

_The distant whisper began to chuckle._

"_You never were one to listen to the impossible. Do, yes, but listen, no."_

_Harry sighed, and once again sat down on the raised dais, this time facing the veil. He stared stonily at it, half expecting Lord Voldemort to walk through and curse him into oblivion. Staring into the veil, it suddenly began to shimmer and turn translucent. Harry gasped, and bored his eyes into the screen-like substance that had appeared before him._

'_Interesting,' he thought._

_As if by an instinct he didn't know he had, he chanted to himself, 'Fluito Clueo,' and began to rise off of the stone dais._

_As he rose, he floated toward the now screen-like veil. Passing through it, he felt a sensation not very unlike when he had landed in a past memory of the Headmaster's Pensieve. Still allowing himself to float, he looked around himself and found his dream self to be in a room that was an exact copy of the one he had just left, only a perfect mirror image._

_Surrounding the left (instead of right side) of the dais were the same stone steps, only instead of being empty they were filled with translucent people. With further observation Harry noticed that they almost seemed ghost-like. Gazing around the room, he noticed that those seated were wearing robes similar to the High Court at Wizengamot. There were many faces amongst those in the room, but Harry felt his gaze being pulled to a certain direction. Gazing specifically at a man and a woman, Harry levitated himself over to them. Although they appeared to be nothing more than spirits, there was no mistaking the identity of these two Angels of the Underworld. _

"_Cunctor Finite Fluito Incantatem," he thought to himself, and then descended slowly to the ground. _

_Turning to the couple before him, Harry attempted to speak._

"_Mum? Dad?" he asked, his throat choking on the tears that were threatening to fall._

_Without warning, an enormous wind raged through the room, and those occupying the benches turned their attention towards the stone dais. When the wind had died and the veil had stilled, Harry turned his gaze to the person that had come through._

_The man looked haggard, beaten, pathetic and broken. Harry had never seen a person look so appalling. His robes were tattered, his eyes looked unnaturally sunken into his skull, and he was painfully thin. His face was brown with congealed blood, and disfigured with wounds that had not yet healed marred what Harry figured once had been a handsome face. Harry could hardly bring himself to gaze upon the man; his visage was so badly mutilated. _

_The mystery man was the only thing in the room that was solid, in full color and not transparent. It appeared that whatever he had expected after he had passed through the veil from the side of the living was clearly not what had actually met his eyes. Harry looked, and saw almost what seemed to be a look of relief (or was that triumph?) in the man's eyes. He smiled, and attempted to greet the ghost-like people that sat before him, but was unable to make any sound._

_The woman in the first row- Harry's mother, Lily Potter- rose to her see-through feet, and began to speak. Harry could tell that once upon a time her voice had been gentle, beautiful and caring, but when it spoke to this man it rang with all the infernos of hell._

"_Andrawlson, you have been tossed here because the Living World wants nothing to do with you and your disgusting essence any longer. It has left it to the Underworld to decide your fate."_

"_No, please! I didn't- I swear," pleaded Andrawlson, realization dawning across his bloody face. _

"_I did nothing wrong. I had no idea I was leaking secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. For the love of God, and all that is holy, please- spare me! Can't you see I've been tortured enough?"_

_The man that had been seated at the woman's right- James Potter, Harry's father- rose to his feet._

"_Your pleas mean nothing to us. Unlike the living, we have no hearts or consciences to influence our decisions. They were torn from us the moment we died, most of them by your Master, Lord Voldemort. All we see is black and white, evil and innocence. You, by far, are the one of the blackest that has passed through the veil into our beyond. We need not see the brand on your forearm to know the truth, Andrawlson."_

_Another figure- this one much younger- very handsome, tall, with brown hair and eyes rose from the third row, and Harry gasped aloud at the sight of him._

"_Cedric…" he breathed, even though he knew the spirit of his former schoolmate could not hear him. _

"_What IS this place?"_

_The young wizard began to speak, his voice also wrought with cold and fury._

"_Only the righteous may pass through the veil and survive. Only the untainted may judge in this courtroom. Do you deny your traitorous actions?"_

_Andrawlson stared defiantly into the young man's eyes. _

"_I was there when he disposed of your worthless life, Diggory. I regret my allegiance not. The Dark Lord alone shall prevail. Potter does not stand a chance."_

_Cedric Diggory shook his head; in what Harry thought was almost a sorrowful manner. Straightening his robes, Cedric bellowed so the entire occupants of the Deceascengamot would not mistake the sentence of the filth before them. _

"_May the Fiery Demons of Hell consume you, Andrawlson, and we anxiously await the arrival of your Master."_

_As one, the entire Deceasengamot pointed their wands at Andrawlson, who dropped to the floor with a look of sheer trepidation on his face._

_Harry didn't have time to close his eyes before the chamber began to pulse with a magic so powerful the walls shook. He didn't have time to shut out the hideous Demons of Hell that were unleashed upon the Death Eater. _

_Andrawlson was being burned alive in a smokeless fire. He would have no hope of suffocation before the flames began to consume the fleshy tissue that was his earthly body. _

_An image of burning, searing, scorching, smoking flesh etched itself permanently into Harry's brain. A vision of skin blistering, bubbling and then boiling before it began dripping off Andrawlson's bones like liquid was burned into Harry's retinas. _

_He did not have time to shut out the screams of terror as the Heliopaths- the Spirits of Fire- consumed the body of the Death Eater in the most painful way known to man. _

Screaming, Harry awoke to find himself still in his room at Grimmauld Place. Unable to contain himself at the horrors he had just witnessed, he continued to scream bloody murder at the top of his lungs. Leaning over his bedside, he vomited onto the floor. Straightening up and grabbing his glasses off of the bedside table, he had just enough time to put them on before he retched again.

A cold hand rested itself upon his shoulder, and Harry screamed again, attempting to wrestle himself out of its grip- but soon, he stopped. Understanding reached his brain, and then confusion once again. He had been screaming loud enough to wake the entire population of London, let alone the occupants of Grimmauld place, and yet he had not heard a sound. Slowly, the torches in the room began to brighten, and he saw the concerned faces of Albus Dumbledore and Dobby the house elf standing before him.


	8. The Astute Decisions of Albus Dumbledore

**Chapter 8: The Astute Decisions of Albus Dumbledore**

Mouth smiling, but eyes betraying his fear and anxiety for the boy, the Headmaster kneeled by Harry's bedside.

"Harry, if you are all right and are sure you have stopped screaming, I will have Dobby remove the Silencing charm he put on you."

Harry nodded dumbly, and with a snap of his fingers the house elf liberated his master's vocal chords. The Headmaster barely had time to lean out of the way before Harry vomited again onto the floor. Unable to control his emotions any longer, Harry threw himself upon the Headmaster and began to sob unrestrainedly. Unsure of what had caused this reaction, Dumbledore did the only logical thing he could think of. He hugged Harry back, and whispered soothing words into his ear. After several minutes, Harry pulled away, and proceeded to apologize profusely.

"Sir, I'm so sorry. I just- I can't explain. My parents- the Death Chamber, and I- the Deceasengamot- I saw the Heliopaths, and they-"

Harry leaned over and retched again at the recollection of what the Heliopaths had done to Andrawlson's already disfigured body. Albus rested a comforting hand on the boy's back, and vanished the pool of sick once again with a simple 'Evanesco'. Reaching deep into his purple dressing gown, he removed a small vile of potion and handed it to the shaking young man.

"Here, Harry. It's a calming drought. It will ease the pain in your head, help the sickness and enable you to think more clearly."

Gratefully, Harry took the potion and swallowed it in a single gulp. Immediately, he felt the nausea cease and his heart rate slow back to normal.

"Was it another vision, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, handing him his dressing gown. "Is Voldemort planning something?"

The pale teenager shook his head.

"No, sir. My scar doesn't hurt at all. I think it was just a regular dream but I know it wasn't. It was different."

Dumbledore's eyebrows furrowed, causing his forehead to wrinkle more than Harry thought was humanly possible. The boy's mentor turned to the House Elf, and asked him, kindly,

"Dobby, will you please light a fire in the kitchen, and make some tea for Harry and myself?"

"Yes, Master Dumbledore. Dobby is getting it right away," and the elf disappeared with a loud crack.

While Albus was busy conversing with the elf, Harry had turned to his bedside cabinet and removed the Pensieve. Harry was in the middle of extracting the dream from his memory by the time the Headmaster had turned back to him.

"Mr. Potter, is that a Pensieve? Wherever did you get one?"

As Harry removed the memory, he smiled at the elder man. "Amanda's Antiques and Amour in Diagon Alley. Professor Lupin said I should wait until term started again and you would show me how to use it, but I thought it better to learn how sooner than later."

Dumbledore was unable to hide his astonishment. "I must say, that is an accomplishment. I'm quite impressed, Mr. Potter. Now, shall we adjourn to the kitchen?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure, Professor. I'd much rather have you see it than to tell you. Words can't really describe it."

Dumbledore looked at him inquisitively.

"I see, Harry. Well, you have your dressing gown? Let us go, then."

The two wizards headed towards the warm kitchen where Dobby was waiting for them. Harry held the door for his Professor, and allowed him to sit first before seating himself. Gesturing to his Pensieve, he said,

"After you, Professor."

Dumbledore furrowed his brow in concentration, and then tumbled head first into the memories of Harry Potter.

Not wanting to have to relive the contents of his dream again, Harry turned away from the Pensieve while his Headmaster was inside. After quite some time, Harry felt a warm hand on his forearm and turned to see that his Headmaster had returned.

Unable to speak, Harry sipped his tea and nibbled on the snicker doodle cookies- his favorite- that Dobby had set before him. Albus sighed, and looked at his student with concern.

"I have never even remotely heard rumors as to what the Ministry was keeping in the Death Chamber."

Harry smiled weakly, "Apparently you've never spoken with Luna Lovegood."

Dumbledore stared into his student's deep green eyes, while his own widened with shock.

"Miss Lovegood knew that Cornelius was keeping Heliopaths in the Ministry of Magic? That, I'm afraid could be rightly classified under the term 'impossible', no matter how much I detest the word."

Harry shook his head as he helped himself to another cookie.

"No, sir. She just was reporting her suspicions. Apparently it was something her father had published in the Rumor section of the "Quibbler". I'm sure she'll be most pleased to hear that she was right."

Dumbledore shook his head, "No, Harry. I don't think we should tell anyone about what you saw this evening."

Harry raised his eyebrows inquisitively, "Why is that, sir?"

"Well, Mr. Potter, because no one knows for sure what lies beyond the veil in the Death Chamber. I doubt even Fudge himself knows the entirety of what goes on in the Department of Mysteries. We cannot even be entirely possible that this dream in itself wasn't… well, just a dream."

Harry could feel his anger rising, "Professor, I know what I saw. This was nothing like the other dreams. It seemed more prophetic than anything else."

"If I'm not mistaken, there has been no other witch or wizard sentenced to the Death Chamber since Mr. Andrawlson, and that was last summer- right after the Dementors attacked you and your cousin in Little Whining."

Harry dropped the cookie he had been nibbling on.

"Last summer? So it DID happen then. Why was he sentenced?"

Dumbledore gazed at the floor, unable to hold eye contact with the young man across the table.

"It is believed that whomever sent the Dementors to attack you was given the idea _and_ the official Summoning form by Andrawlson. In return for the suggestion, said person gave Andrawlson not only the location of the Prophecy's record and how to get there, but also the address of your Aunt and Uncle's residence in Surrey. This is something I was informed of only recently."

Harry gasped, "Then why didn't Voldemort just come and get me himself if he knew where I was?"

"I had you too well protected."

Harry snorted, "Oh, and a fat lot of good that did, seeing as the Dementors still got a hold of me."

"Harry, please, try to understand—"

"Understand, WHAT!" Harry yelled, on the brink of losing not only his temper but also his self-control.

"Fudge sent Andrawlson to the Death Chamber and yet he still let Delores Umbridge go free? That's BULL SHIT, Professor, and you know it."

Dumbledore just stared unbelievingly at the rage Harry was exhibiting in the kitchen. Too shocked by the names the boy had dropped into the air, Albus could hardly chastise him for his use of profanity.

"Harry, what do you mean by 'let Delores Umbridge go free'?"

There was a fire behind the boy's eyes as he turned to stare down his Headmaster. His hair cackled with magical energy, and ruby sparks shot from each of his fingertips.

"I _mean_, that last year Umbridge **admitted** to me that SHE was the one that sent the Dementors to attack me. She admitted it right before she was going to use the Cruciatus Curse on me to get me to tell her where Sirius was hiding."

Albus Dumbledore stood up, knocking over his chair in a towering rage. Eyes flashing, he turned to Harry,

"Harry, can you prove that?" he asked, a hint of what almost seemed like desperation in his voice.

"Professor, I would gladly take Veritaserum to get that old hag thrown out of the Ministry. I'm sure Hermione would, too. She was there, and so was Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna and a bunch of other Slytherin trolls."

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with a manic glitter,

"By Merlin, I think we might just have her."

He sat down, and Harry (now calm) returned to the table. Albus removed his nightcap and began ironing his forehead with his hands. Harry gazed at the old man, as if for the first time seeing how old he really was. Timidly, Harry spoke up after several minutes.

"Um, Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Is that why you came and got me from the Dursley's so soon this summer? Because you were afraid of something happening again?"

Dumbledore sighed, raised his head and smoothed back his flowing white hair.

"Harry, I'd like you to look at me. Look at me, and tell me what you see."

Harry simply stared; jaw gaping, unable to think of any reason for what he deemed a completely random, off-topic request.

"Sorry?"

The elderly wizard sighed once more, and repeated his query.

"Harry, look at me. Tell me what you see."

Harry stuttered, and thought. After a few minutes, he voiced the only thing he could think of.

"Um, well, Professor Dumbledore, I see you. Just you. I mean you're old, but I can see that you look at lot older than when I first got to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore shook his head, "No, Harry. Tell me what you SEE. Look harder."

Harry stood up, and began to circle the Headmaster's chair.

"Well, I see you aren't wearing any shoes- you're barefoot. I like walking barefoot, too. Um… I see that your dressing gown is lined with wool. You mentioned something about never having enough wool socks to me once, in my first year, but I don't understand what this has to do with—"

Dumbledore stood up abruptly, and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, shaking him. Frightened, but unable to move, Harry could only stare into his mentor's eyes.

"Harry! For the love of Merlin, LOOK AT ME. Look at my face. Look at my _face, _and tell me- please-" the Headmaster's voice cracked, and he fell to his knees in front of the Boy Who Lived. Harry saw his eyes brimming with tears.

"Please, Harry," he continued. "Tell me what you see."

Harry stared; willing himself to see what Albus wanted him to. Thinking back to the Sphinx, her riddle in the Triwizard Tournament and how he had solved it then, Harry began to mutter aloud to himself.

"Well, sir, um… You're wearing glasses- I wear glasses. You have, um, blue eyes? Um, you're really wrinkly, so it's hard to really see anyth- oh, God, I'm sorry, Sir! I didn't mean that, it just slipped out!"

Dumbledore smiled, and urged him on. "No, my boy- you're right, keep going!"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in a last ditch attempt at concentration, and then suddenly, he saw it. Gasping, he pulled away from the Headmaster's grip on his shoulders.

"Oh, Professor! How did you? Oh God! It's there- right on your forehead- I can see it!"

Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet, and sat down once again at the table.

"Yes, Harry. A scar. It's there. The same as yours, plain as day- well, maybe not plain as day, like you said yourself I am quite wrinkly, but it's there all the same."

Unable to support him any longer, Harry's legs gave way and he slumped into a chair across from the Headmaster. Lifting an unsteady hand to his forehead, he fingered over the cursed scar that had made him a Legacy before he could even walk.

"Professor, could I?" he cut off, unable to voice what he desired to.

Albus nodded, and lifted Harry's other hand to his own forehead. Gingerly, as though he was afraid of being bitten, Harry traced his fingertips over the Headmasters scar that was identical to his own.

"Professor, does anyone else know about this?"

Albus shook his head 'no', and sighed replacing his nightcap.

"That would explain why you wear Wizard's Hats all the time, wouldn't it?" Harry mused.

Dumbledore smiled, "Yes, Harry, it would. Not even Minerva knows about it. I imagine you would like me to explain how—"

The Headmaster trailed off, his voice never finishing his sentence. Harry paused in thought before opening his mouth to reply.

"I would, Sir, but I think that now may not be the time. You can tell me whenever you're ready. I'll be there to listen."

Albus smiled, and a slight blush crept up his pale cheeks.

"Thank you, Harry. For more than you know. I really am not quite ready at this point in time. But I am glad you are willing to listen when I am."

Harry smiled, "Of course. Just call me. You know I'll be there."

Albus rose to leave, and Harry stifled a yawn.

"Good night, Mr. Potter. I'm sure we will meet again, soon."

"Good night, Professor. Thanks for being here tonight. I feel much better after sharing the dream with you. Don't worry, though. I won't tell anyone else at this point."

"I think that might be a good idea, Harry. Well, good night."

Dumbledore made towards the fireplace where he grabbed a pinch of Floo powder. Before tossing it into the cackling flames, he turned to Harry, who was putting the dishes in the sink.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Have you told anyone about the Prophecy yet?"

Harry looked down at his bare feet, and shook his head.

"No, Professor. I can't bring myself to put that weight on Ron, Hermione and Ginny. I'd feel awful."

Albus nodded in understanding.

"Well, Harry, the only advice I have to offer is this."

"What's that, Professor?"

"Think of how you would feel if you were in their robes."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Well, my boy, would you rather find out this way, or at the final battle where you might do something disastrous from a lack of knowing?"

Harry's eyes widened at the thought of one of his best friends attempting to put an end to Voldemort and it backfiring, much like Gilderoy Lockhart's Memory Modifying charm did when he had used Ron's spellotaped wand in the Chamber of Secrets.

He nodded. "I'll remember that, Professor. Thank you."

Albus smiled, and shook his head, "No, Mr. Potter, thank _you_."

And as he stepped into the emerald green flames, he thought to himself,

"_Thank you, for more than you could ever know."_


	9. Birthdays, Brokenness and Betrayals

**Chapter 9: Birthdays, Brokenness and Betrayals**

The next few weeks at Number 12 passed without any major incidence- unless you count Harry locking Ron in a dusty wardrobe for his shameless attacks on the raven-haired boy's atrocious chess skills. Surprisingly enough, Mrs. Weasley sided with Harry.

"Ronald, dear, stop shaking the wardrobe, or it will tip over!" she hooted, doubling up with laughter when Hermione dragged her into the room, pleading for the older woman to unlock the door.

"You can't deny that you deserved it the way you've been antagonizing him lately! Honestly, I surprised he didn't do worse from the things you've been saying to him."

Mrs. Weasley did unlock the wardrobe, though, and out stepped a cursing Ron, mumbling something along the lines of 'get you for this… foul, evil, loathsome little… means WAR'. At this, Harry chuckled.

"No problem, Ron. I'd be more than happy to wage an ongoing battle with you. It will give us something to do other than homework!"

The group laughed, and headed down to the kitchen for supper. Once again, Dobby had cooked up a fantastic meal and everyone enjoyed themselves. Even Ron began to chuckle about Harry locking him in the wardrobe, admitting that it was a good prank.

"Seriously, Ron," choked Ginny, attempting to speak in between gales of laughter, "I can't believe you FELL for that! Did you honestly think that Dobby would have put your clean robes in an unused wardrobe on the THIRD floor!"

Ron's ears began to flush, "Well, I uh, I mean, I um thought that he- um- oh forget it. Can we talk about something else now?"

Even Hermione was laughing now. "Sure, Ron. So, Harry, what did you want to do for your birthday tomorrow?"

Harry choked, splattering his milk on the table. "Is my birthday really tomorrow? Whoa. I honestly didn't remember."

Ginny shook her head, smiling to herself about how selfless her boyfriend could be sometimes, and Mrs. Weasley gasped in motherly outrage.

"Harry James Potter! Are you telling me that you have never had a proper enough birthday to even bother REMEMBERING that it's coming up!"

He blushed in embarrassment. "Um, well Mrs. Weasley, no. I guess I haven't, really."

"Well, I NEVER!" she sniffed. "That settles it then. You lot- OUT. Go finish your homework or something, but you had best not set foot in this kitchen again until tomorrow morning."

Confused, the group rose and retreated to the drawing room.

"What in the WORLD was that about?" asked Harry, shocked by the display of emotions that his adoptive motherly figure had just shown.

"I've never seen her so upset- not even after Fred and George left Hogwarts- and it's just a stupid birthday! Honestly, I never liked them much anyway. I don't see what the all the fuss is about."

Ron smiled, shaking his head. "Harry, you may be smart with girls and everything, but when it comes to mums, you've got a lot to learn. You're completely oblivious as to how mums think."

Harry turned, and glared at his best friend, his green eyes flashing with anger comparable to that of Albus Dumbledore. The torches in the room began to flicker unnaturally, and ruby sparks seemed to discharge from the emerald-eyed boy. His hair (which was more on end than normal), and each of his fingertips shot off heated flashes of magical discharge at a continuous rate.

Instantaneously, the room was silent and its occupants braced themselves for the explosion- but what came, was far worse than they could have imagined. When Harry spoke, his voice was quiet- no more than a whisper. Harry's eyes flashed almost black with the anger of betrayal, and his words were cold and cackling with malevolent energy.

"Well, _Ronald_, I may not know a lot about mothers, but I can assure you that _I_ at least have a valid excuse for that. YOU, on the other hand, have no excuse for your tactlessness."

With that, Harry rounded on his heels, stomped out of the drawing room and all the way up the stairs, leaving his three best friends with their jaws nearly hitting the floor.

" Oh shit," mumbled Ron, smacking himself in the forehead and dropping frustratedly into the desk chair.

"I cannot BELIEVE I just said that."

"Neither can I, Ron," whispered Hermione, horror-struck at the events she had just witnessed.

"I just wasn't thinking. God, Harry was right about me. I just don't pay attention enough. I mean, I didn't MEAN anything by it! You know that, don't- don't you, 'Mione?"

Hermione just stared, unable to speak.

"Ginny?" cried Ron, desperately. "You know I didn't! I just- I-"

By now, Ron was close to tears. Hermione didn't know what to do. She had never seen her boyfriend as broken as he was now, and she had been with him through nearly every altercation of his life. The Sorcerer's Stone, when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets, when everyone had thought that Sirius Black had nearly murdered him in his sleep, The Triwizard Tournament and even the Department of Mysteries Room of Knowledge, where he had nearly been strangled to death by a human brain. Hermione secretly knew (reluctantly, she had finally broken down and promised that she wouldn't tell Harry) that although her boyfriend had severe scarring all over his chest and arms from the brain, that the emotional pain of betraying his best friend would hurt far worse than any of the scars from the Department of Mysteries. Ginny, on the other hand, had grown up with Ron, and knew exactly what to do to comfort him. Walking over to her older (and favorite) brother, she hugged him and lowered his face to hers with her hands.

"Yes, Ron," she whispered consolingly. "I know you didn't mea it. I know you just wanted Harry to realize that mums tend to think that their baby's birthdays are among the most important things in the world.

"In a way, yes, you were right- Harry does have a lot to learn about mums. He's never had one, and so he doesn't understand why things like birthdays would be so important to them.

"I think he feels sometimes that it's his fault that he has no parents, and I'm sure that losing Sirius- the closest thing he's had to one- doesn't make it any easier."

Ron pulled away, and hung his head once again into his hands. Hermione cautiously approached him and sat on the arm of the leather desk chair. Stroking his back, she attempted to soothe him. A few silent minutes passed, and the broken redhead raised a tear-stained face to two of the women that he cared most about in the world.

"What am I going to DO?" he whispered, his voice cracking as the tears continued to fall. "I can't believe I hurt him like that. And so soon after Sirius and the Department of Mysteries and just- EVERYTHING that he's been through. I don't deserve to be his friend. Not after that. He has every right to never speak to me again."

"Talk to him," supplied Ginny simply, as if it were as effortless as breathing.

"How CAN I?" moaned Ron. "He has every right to hate me."

"But he WON'T," assured Hermione. "He knows you didn't mean it like that, Ron. Sure, it hurt, but deep down, he knows that you meant the best."

"Look, Ron," interjected Ginny, glancing at her wristwatch, "he's been gone for almost forty-five minutes. I'm sure he's had time to cool down. Just go upstairs and talk to him."

"But-"

"Go, Ronald," urged Hermione. "We'll be right outside the door if you need us."

Sighing, Ron stood up shakily and headed for the stairs, followed by his girlfriend and sister. Grabbing their hands for support, he ascended, feeling as though each step would be his last, and rightfully so. Timidly, he knocked on the door to his and Harry's bedroom before opening it. The sight that met his eyes seemed to stop time in its tracks. The vision that he witnessed upon opening the door was just as surprising as the reaction Harry had given in the drawing room.

Ron knew that he would have much rather been screamed at, hexed, or beaten up physically than hearing the hurt whisper that Harry had confronted him with. Ron had never seen his best friend so angry. In fact, he had never seen ANYONE so angry- angry, being the understatement of the century. The only person that had come close was his Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Shivering, he recalled that particular Quidditch match in his third year when the Dementors of Azkaban had entered the grounds against the orders of the greatest wizard alive. Ron remembered the way Dumbledore seemed to radiate an energy that was powerful enough to send even the Dementors packing without a Patronus. Now that he had thought about it, he noticed that the energy that had been searing through his best mate had been equivalent, if not greater than that of his Headmaster, which was something to be noted.

Shaking his head out of his nostalgia, Ron focused on the pitiful site that lay before him. Coughing slightly to announce his presence, he apprehensively approached Harry's bedside. Forgetting to close the door behind him, he left Ginny and Hermione standing fearfully in its frame.

"Harry?" he whispered, nervously, dreading a repeat of what had happened in the drawing room.

Harry barely twitched. The only movement that showed Ron that Harry wasn't comatose was his left hand, which was absentmindedly stroking Tonic. He had never seen his friend look so disgraceful. Harry's normally gleaming eyes were dim and dark with pain, and seemed to be shrinking back into the depths of his skull. His hair, which usually was disheveled to an unimitatable perfection, seemed to have lost its unruliness. Not knowing what to do, and barely able to remain upright out of devastation of what he had done, Ron fell to his knees at Harry's bedside. Once again, the tears began to fall; only this time he did nothing to hold them back.

"Oh, God, Harry. I don't even know HOW to say I'm sorry for what I said. It would never be enough. I don't deserve to have your friendship after being so thoughtless. I understand if you want to hate me forever. I would deserve it. I deserve to die for what I-"

Harry's limp form bolted upright, frightening Tonic. She jumped off the bed with a reproachful look at the boy who had removed her from the travesty that Diagon Alley called a Pet Shop and into her calmer, female owner's arms.

"Don't."

"Don't what, Harry?" wailed Ron, now openly sobbing, not caring how childish he looked. "I mean every word. I don't deserve your friendship. I deserve to die for hurting you like that."

"Don't ever say that you deserve to die, Ron. EVER."

His voice cracked, but he forced himself to go on, knowing that if he stopped he would never continue.

"Everyone I've loved in my life has died so far- you would be willing to hurt me even MORE by wishing death upon yourself?"

Even Harry was beginning to tear up now, but he was no match for the sobbing of the two girls, still standing silently in the doorframe. In one movement, Ginny and Hermione rushed over to the bed and threw their arms around the two boys. For what seemed like hours, the group sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, Ron and Harry sniffling and the girls weeping outright. At long last, Harry pulled away and rose from the bed.

"Harry, mate," Ron stuttered, "please- yell at me. Hex me. Do SOMETHING. Just please forgive me. You're the first friend I ever made, and I don't want to be without you."

Harry smiled sadly, and reached into his bedside cupboard for the Pensieve he had bought at Madam Amanda's.

"Ron, of course I forgive you. There's nothing to forgive. Consider it forgotten. All I ask now is that you three, in turn, forgive me for what I'm about to show you, and what I've kept from you all this time."

"Harry," breathed Hermione, startled at the sudden change in subject, "is that a PENSIEVE? How did you get one? They're really rare! I wonder if even Dumbledore has one?"

Harry laughed, but even he could hear how hollow and forced it sounded.

"Never miss a trick, do you, 'Mione? Yes, it's a Pensieve, and I bought it from 'Amanda's Antiques and Amour' when we went to Diagon Alley for our school things a few weeks ago."

"Wow. Just, WOW. Do you know how to work it?"

Sheepishly, he smiled once again. "Yeah. I couldn't sleep one night so I asked Dobby to show me the library. He helped me find a book on "How to Operate Complex Magical Objects", and it showed me how to do it. Professor Lupin wanted me to wait and have Dumbledore show me, but I couldn't wait that long. I have way too much stuff on my mind right now to wait for term to begin."

"I was a little curious when you said you needed to 'show' us something you've kept from us," said Ginny, fingering the carvings on the stone basin inquisitively.

"So I take it Professor Dumbledore does have one, doesn't he?" inquired Hermione, getting back to the point.

"Yeah, he does. I've seen way more than I care to from that thing. I'm sure you'll feel the same way after this."

"What's going on, Harry? What are you trying to tell us?" asked Ron, unable to discern the anxious feeling in his stomach.

"You know you don't have to tell us anything you don't want to," he added, wisely. "I'll understand. I'm sure the girls will, too."

The Boy Who Lived just shook his head and sighed.

"You know Ron, it's statements like that that make me realize you're ready to hear it. You're going to know eventually, and I know if I were in your shoes I would want to hear it this way over the other."

Hermione's voice quivered when she spoke.

"What's the… the other way, Harry?"

He shook his head profusely. "No. This way is better. Just trust me on that one."

Ginny reached over her brother's lap and grabbed Harry's hand.

"It's ok, Har. You know what's best."

"I hope so, Gin. I hope so."

"What is it, Harry? I know a Pensieve holds memories," interpolated Hermione, knowledgably, "but…"

Her voice trailed off. His best girlfriend, for once in her life, seemed unable to finish a thought. The boy with green eyes, who had prematurely been through more than they could have ever imagined, bit his lip and whispered,

"The Prophecy."


	10. Secrets, Sorrows, and a Solemn Vow

**Chapter 10: Secrets, Sorrows and a Solemn Vow**

Sighing, Harry picked up his wand off of the small table to the left of his bed. Prodding it into the contents of his Pensieve (which were considerably less than the Headmaster's), he swirled it around. When he pulled it back up from the bottom, a somewhat translucent figure of a very old, very weary-looking Albus Dumbledore rose out of it, his feet and robe hems still dragging in the silvery substance that was Harry Potter's memories.

In a voice (although it sounded remote, as though from a distant realm) that Ron, Hermione and Ginny knew so well, the Headmaster began to speak.

"Harry, it's time I told you something that I should have said years ago."

The see-through form of Albus Dumbledore prodded his wand into a basin that looked very much like the one that his memory form was currently standing in. Out of the Headmaster's basin- through Harry's memory- rose the unmistakable silhouette of a much younger Sybill Trelawney. The three other teens leaned closer, afraid of missing the words that were (unbeknownst to them) about to change their lives forever. With eyes magnified by her signature glasses, the translucent form of Hogwarts' previous Divination Teacher began to speak in a voice that none of them, other than Harry- who had heard it once before- thought possible.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… _

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… _

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… _

_And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"_

With a wave of his hand through Professor Trelawney's form, she dissolved back into the Headmaster's basin, and she and Albus together liquefied back into the contents of the Boy Who Lived's Pensieve. Harry had already revealed enough- he had no desire to let the memory continue into the part where Dumbledore explained the reason that he had not chosen Harry for Prefect. Replacing the Pensieve carefully back into the bedside cabinet, he turned to his friends to find out their reaction. What he saw, he would not soon forget. Ginny was crying, Ron had fallen to the floor and began muttering incoherently to himself, while Hermione alone had remained calm. In fact, she looked almost pensive herself.

"Say something," he pleaded. "Please."

"What are we supposed to say, Har?" asked Ron, disbelievingly, breaking out of his unintelligible musings. "We thought it was smashed all this time, only to find out now that it wasn't. Honestly, I wish it still was."

"It's AWFUL, Harry!" wailed Ginny. "How are we supposed to react to hearing that either you or VoldeI can't believe this, I- oh GOD!"

The redhead turned and ran from the room sobbing. Harry didn't know what to do. Shoving his hands into his pockets and looking to the floor, he sat on the bed and looked at Hermione for any idea of what to do next. Surprisingly enough, it was Ron that stood up and left to comfort his distressed sister. Shrugging, he headed towards the door.

"Well, she's the one that convinced me to come in here and talk to Harry earlier tonight," he reasoned to no one in particular. "I'll go return the favor of talking some sense into her."

With that, he exited, leaving Harry and Hermione alone for the first time since their conversation in the Library on the first day he had arrived at Grimmauld Place.

"Well, Harry," Hermione offered, "I'm sure you know that the first thing I want to do is head-"

"To the library, I know" he finished, smiling weakly at her. "But what good would it do?"

"Exactly," she sighed. "No good. Harry, um, would you mind-"

"Playing it again? If you think it'll help. I'd honestly rather just repeat it to you myself. It's easier that way. Having to watch it again that time was hard enough."

"Oh, of course. Sorry. I didn't really think about it like that. Of course which ever is easier for you, Harry."

Slowly, not only because it pained him to do it, but also because he wanted to be sure that his best girlfriend heard it all properly on the first shot, so he wouldn't have to do it again, Harry began to speak the encrypted message.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

"Wow," breathed the brunette, "it's so… precise, and yet so…"

"Vague?" finished the raven-haired teenager.

"Yeah. I mean. In the beginning, it could mean really anyone. And then the whole 'born to those' part makes it—Oh, Harry, I'm sorry! I can stop if you want. I'm sure this has to be hard for you."

He shook his head slightly, "No, 'Mione, it's fine. I'm sure that anything you're about to say has probably gone through my head six or seven hundred times already this summer."

His friend blushed, and summoned the strength to continue.

"'Born to those who have thrice defied him-', I mean, couldn't that have meant ANYONE else? Why you, of all the wizards born at the end of July? There must have been lots of other babies- even Muggle babies- that could have fit that, couldn't there?"

"Well, no, not really. I mean, Muggles wouldn't have known anything about Voldemort, so there's no way that any pregnant Muggle couples could have 'thrice defied' him. There was, as Dumbledore told me, one other possibility of a baby to fulfill the prophecy at that time."

"ONE? Only one other baby boy wizard at the end of July? But who—"

"Neville Longbottom," came a raw voice from the doorway.

Harry looked up, smiled and walked to the doorway. "Yeah. It was Neville, Gin. How'd you know?"

Taking her hand, and whispering thanks to Ron, the three journeyed back to Harry's bed.

"I used to hang out with Neville a lot. After he asked me to the ball my third year, we became pretty good friends. We studied together; he walked with me to meals, things like that. He's really good at Herbology, and so he helped me- I'm awful at it. Naturally, he got me a present for my birthday after that year, and I got him one. We still exchange gifts, come to think of it. That's how I knew his birthday was at the end of July, just like yours, Harry."

"Exactly."

"But why did V-v-voldemort pick you then, Harry?" asked Ginny, her lower lip beginning to tremble again.

"Well, the only reason Dumbledore and I could come up with is that he found me to be the bigger threat. I'm a half-blood, just like him. That's why he would pick me over pure-blooded Neville."

"I thought You-Know-Who didn't know what the prophecy said, though? _That's_ why he went after it in the Department of Mysteries, wasn't it? So how could he have known to… what was it? 'Mark an equal' or whatever?" asked Ron, putting more thought into it than anyone would have expected.

"Dumbledore answered that, too," responded Harry. "There was a spy in the Hog's Head that night when he went to meet Professor Trelawney and interview her for the Divination post, but the spy was thrown out before he could hear the prophecy's entire contents.

"That's why Voldemort wanted it so badly last year. He thought it would be the key to my undoing. But from what Dumbledore and I can discern- it's really nothing of the sort. All it says is that I'm the only one that can kill him now, since I've been marked 'as his equal'."

Ginny looked up resolutely, her bottom lip was no longer trembling, and her eyes were sparkling with a determination that the trio had never seen before.

"You can do it, Harry. I know you can. We'll help. I'll research this till I turn blue in the face if I have to, but we're going to help you beat that bastard."

Leaning over, Harry planted a small kiss on her forehead and squeezed her hand.

"Thanks, Ginny. With friends like you by my side, I swear, sometimes I feel invincible."

Hermione stood, and then leaned down to hug her friend.

"Ginny's right, Harry. I'll research this until my face is as deformed as Pansy Parkinson's if need be. In the mean time, I need to get some sleep. I need to think about this, but when I have any insights, I'll be sure to get back to you."

Ron walked Hermione to her room, leaving Harry alone with Ginny in theirs.

"I'm sorry, Gin, about all of this. But if there's one thing I can tell you for sure, it's that I'm not going down without a fight. Especially now that I've got you to fight for."

Smiling, Ginny leaned over to hug the boy that had filled her dreams since she was a small girl.

"Thanks, Harry. Someday I'll be able to tell you how much that means to me, but I just don't think I have the words right now."

"You're welcome, Gin."

Stifling a yawn, Harry stood and offered a hand to help Ginny off the bed.

"I don't think so, Mr. Potter. You are going to put on your pajamas and get into bed right now."

"Oh really, Miss Weasley? And just who, pray tell, is going to make me?"

"I AM."

Ginny walked over to Harry's wardrobe and grabbed a pair of freshly laundered pajamas for Harry to put on. Bashfully, she turned around while he changed. When he let her know he was decent, she turned back around and pulled down the sheets for him.

"In!" she said, forcefully.

Harry gaped at the redhead that was a good head shorter than him, which was saying something, as Harry had always been on the somewhat short side himself. He couldn't believe that she was so small, and yet was still ordering him around.

"Are you bossing me around, Miss Weasley?"

She grinned cheekily.

"I am. Are you sassing me, Mr. Potter?"

"No, ma'am!" he cried, jumping into the bed.

Lovingly, Ginny bent over and began to tuck him in. In any other circumstance, Harry would have been annoyed at being treated like a five year old, but in this case, he couldn't understand why he was enjoying all the extra attention.

"Why are you doing this, Ginny?" he asked, dazed, as he snuggled under the blankets. Ginny sighed, and lay down next to him, running her fingers through his hair and returning it to its mussed perfection.

"Because. As much as it hurts me to say it- Ron was right. You do have a lot to learn about some things in life. Being cared for unconditionally- like the way a mother loves her child- is one of them. I guess I figured that you never had anyone to do this for you- ever. And I just thought it was kind of sad. You better not start regressing on me, though. I like having a boyfriend I can snog senseless.

"Besides, it's nice ordering you around. I'm one of the few people you actually listen to. I like that power."

Taking off his glasses and placing them on the table, Harry smiled at the fiery redhead that had so easily made him succumb to her every whim.

"You're right, Gin. You are one of the few people that can order me around. Being tucked in at night IS nice- but I'm definitely not going to let you do it every night. There's going to be times where you're going to have to let ME tuck YOU in, Miss Weasley."

Ginny pouted. "Fine. But I'm still going to find other ways to spoil you."

"Hahaha. You've got it, Miss Weasley. Now will you _pweeze_ come and kiss me goodnight?"

Smirking, she leaned over and obliged. "You and your damned green eyes. They get me every time. That, and that stupid baby talk 'pweeze'. _SO_ not like you, Harry, but still cute. What did we just talk about though- not regressing?"

"I'm not regressing. I'm just trying to be cute so my girlfriend will kiss me. She's stingy about that sometimes."

"Hey!" Ginny cried, in mock outrage. Even still, she leaned in once again to kiss Harry goodnight.

"Ha. See? I always get what I want."

"Fred and George were right about you, young man. Since when did you get so smart?"

"Hmm…" Harry pondered. "Don't know, really. It just happened, I guess. Are you complaining?"

Ginny reflected a moment, and then replied. "No, I suppose not. As long as I get what I want, too."

"Oh? And what's that?" asked Harry, curiously.

"You," she replied simply.

"Ah. I see. Well in that case, you win. G'night, love."

"Goodnight, Harry." Ginny glanced at her wristwatch, and added, "Oh, happy birthday, Harry!"

"Is it past midnight already?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Yup. Goodnight. Sweet dreams, birthday boy."

"You too, Gin. So far, it's already the best birthday I've ever had."

Smiling, Ginny turned and began to walk out the door to her room. Lying in his bed, Harry couldn't help but call out to her as her hair caught the torchlight and shimmered when she turned.

"Hey, Ginny?"

Turning back around, she asked, "Yes, Harry?"

"I love you."

Once again that night, Ginny's lower lip trembled.

"I love you too."


	11. A Party, an Apology, and a New Partner

**Chapter 11: A Party, an Apology and a New Partner**

The group rose fairly later than normal the next morning, and was dragged out of bed by Mrs. Weasley only an hour before lunch.

"Come on now, you lot! Up! Get dressed and be ready for company in an hour!"

Groaning, Ron and Harry tumbled out of bed and headed towards some of the many toilettes at Grimmauld Place. The boys arrived into the foyer long before the girls, and then journeyed together to the kitchen for some food. Opening the door, an amazing site greeted their eyes. Harry was bombarded and forced into a party hat bearing the words "It's my Birthday!" on top by none other than Fred and George Weasley.

"SURPRISE!"

Harry stared, unable to believe what he was seeing.

The entire Order of the Phoenix (minus Albus Dumbledore, but plus Severus Snape), Neville Longbottom (and his still formidable-looking Grandmother), Luna Lovegood (who, mercifully, had ditched her ever-present copy of "The Quibbler" for the occasion) and other assorted guests (including Bill Weasley) had assembled themselves in the kitchen for Harry's sixteenth birthday.

"How in the world—" he began.

"Ah, well dear," smiled Mrs. Weasley, rushing over to give him a bone-crunching hug, "I have my ways. Just enjoy yourself, will you, Harry?"

He nodded dumbly, and looked towards his friends. Ginny had immediately rushed over to greet Neville, while Hermione and Ron were busy talking to Luna. After the customary rounds of birthday wishes about the room, Harry snuck over to Remus by the cake table.

"Professor?" he asked, timidly.

Lupin smiled, "Honestly, Harry, I think we're a bit beyond such formalities. Please, call me Remus, will you? After all, I no longer am your Professor."

Harry smiled.

"Well, um, Remus, it's just that… Well—"

Harry dropped his voice to a whisper.

"I've never had a birthday party before, and so I really don't know what to do."

Remus laughed good-naturedly. "Well, son, it's really the same as any other party, only with a specific reason. Just be yourself, have fun, and try not to get too red in the face when they sing 'happy birthday'. Oh, and most important, thank everyone when you open their present."

Harry's eyes widened in horror, "They're going to—to…"

Remus chuckled, "Really, Harry, calm down. The birthday song only lasts about thirty seconds. It's not that bad. It might be nice for you, as you've never had it sung to you before."

Harry shook his head, his eyes (if possible) seemed to widen even more.

"You mean that they **all** got me _presents_? But, it's not Christmas. I hardly even know some of these people- SNAPE is here, for crying out loud! I mean- the only people that have ever gotten me anything are you, Hermione, the Weasley's and Sirius."

Lupin smiled and pulled Harry into a hug. "Believe it or not, Harry, you've got more friends than you think."

The boy smiled, and the atmosphere of the party began to take its toll on him. As the afternoon wore on, he felt more and more like a giddy five-year-old at his very first birthday party. Fred and George (with Hermione's helpful instruction) even conjured a talking 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey' board, and attempted to round up everyone for a game. Some of the older adults looked like they suddenly had to 'conveniently' use the toilette, but after pleading looks from Harry they relented and joined in. It took some pointed pleading on Harry's part to get Professor McGonagall to join in, but she eventually gave in.

Sighing, she stood and allowed an overly eager Mr. Weasley (as ever still fascinated at the Muggle game) to blindfold her.

"Well, last time we played Albus beat me. He's not here, so let's see if I can win this time!"

Hermione's (along with many other guests) jaw dropped, and she gasped "Professor Dumbledore has played 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey?"

From the corner came a loud sniff, and everyone turned to look upon Severus Snape, arms folded, looking as though he had just stepped in something smelly.

"Yes, Albus had us play at his last birthday party. That man gets stranger every year."

The company laughed, and watched as Professor McGonagall pinned her tail about an inch away from the marked spot.

"HA!" she cried triumphantly. "Try and beat that one!"

Hermione seemed awestruck at the way her idol was 'letting her hair down' all in the name of good fun. Meanwhile, Harry grabbed another blindfold and headed to the corner where Snape had occupied himself miserably since his arrival. The scowl on his face made it apparent that he would much rather be shoveling Dragon Dung with Hagrid than be at a childish birthday party- especially one for Harry Potter.

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked, his knees slightly shaking out of nerves.

Severus raised an eyebrow as his only response.

"Sir," Harry continued. "Sir, would you like to have a go?"

The eyebrow rose even higher, disappearing into a sheet of greasy black hair.

"Potter," he snarled, "you honestly think I participate in such foolishness? If your thick skull can't comprehend the fact that there is no way in Hell I would be here if Albus hadn't 'pointedly suggested' it, then you're dimmer than I thought."

Harry paused, digging deep within himself to find a way to make the man see what he was trying to convey. He ignored the cheers from the crowd- Hermione had beaten Professor McGonagall at 'Pin the Tail'.

"Well, sir, under normal circumstances, no, I don't. But this is different. It's my birthday, and I, for one, am glad you're here. I know you don't want to be, and honestly, when I first saw you I wanted to turn right back around and head to my room."

Snape snorted.

"Potter, I think this is the only time you have ever made an intelligent statement. I couldn't agree with you more."

Harry sighed. It was now or never. He would not have another chance to talk to Severus Snape without anyone else trying to listen in.

"Professor, I want to apologize."

Snape sighed, clearly not wanting to listen any longer, but with a stern glare from Professor McGonagall he stayed put.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened between you and my father."

"Don't talk about what you don't understand, you stupid boy. You know nothing of what happened. You know nothing of the hell he made my life."

Harry grimaced, and tried his best not to lose his temper. Shaking his head, he walked away from the hook-nosed man that had been his life's misery for the past five years. Moving back to the party, Harry tried to enjoy himself. After some time, the spirit sucked him back in and he was genuinely having a wonderful time.

Dinnertime came, and everyone sat down to another one of Dobby's delicious meals. The birthday song was sung, and Harry beamed as he opened his biggest pile of presents yet. After thanking everyone in turn (especially Dobby, who had completed the 'Family Portrait'), he wandered around the kitchen, thoughts of his previous conversation with Snape flooding back into his mind.

Heading towards the dessert table, he scooped ice cream onto a plate and then added a slice of cake. Pausing for a moment, he sighed to himself, and then made an additional plate. Handing his least favorite Professor the plate of cake and ice cream, he said simply, 'Follow me,' and walked out the door.

Luckily, no one noticed them slip out as they were all preoccupied with sharing stories of past birthday memories. Harry wound his way through the house, up the stairs and into his bedroom, without once turning around to check if his Professor was still following him.

'_If there is ever a time to show him trust,' he thought, 'now is that time.'_

Walking straight to his bedside cupboard, Harry opened it and pulled out his Pensieve. Snape didn't say anything, although Harry almost thought he saw a glimmer of interest behind the man's dark eyes. With a wave of his hand, Harry shut the door and then set the magical object on the table.

"Thank you for coming, Professor."

Snape sniffed haughtily. "Let's get this over with, Potter. I don't have all day. I came here because Dumbledore ordered me to, not because I wanted to spend 'quality time' with you."

Harry bit his tongue, once again trying to control his temper.

Snape continued on. Now that he was out of earshot, he seemed to be ready to express his distaste for the whole matter.

"This is the last place I ever wanted to be. It may have been cleaned up since your idiot of a Godfather left, but that doesn't make it fit for me to hang my cloak here. Sirius Black and his stupid friends. If I had my way, I'd—"

Harry couldn't stand it any longer. His hair stood on end, and flashes of ruby light flew from his fingertips. The room pulsed with magical energy, and Severus Snape stopped his sentence dead in its tracks.

"What are you playing at, Potter?" Snape choked, nervously looking about the room, as if searching for a possible escape.

Harry's voice dripped with malice.

"Never. Insult. My. Godfather. Do. You. Understand?"

"I'll say whatever I damn well ple—"

Harry lifted his hand, and Severus was instantly silent and unable to move. Still mouthing words, his voice had ceased to vibrate. His eyes flashed with a vengeance toward the boy that had hexed him. Harry's only response was a sigh. He looked at the man he had hated for so long with a look that could only be described as sympathy.

"Professor, I was going to try and show you this an easier way, but you leave me no choice. I tried to apologize, but apparently you just can't get over school day grudges. This is the only way I know how to show you that I know **exactly **the kind of hell my father put you through."

Snape stared menacingly, but his eyes betrayed his interest.

"When I saw that memory of my father teasing you by the lake after your OWLs, it ripped my heart out. I thought that after all the years of being PROUD when people told me I was the 'spitting image of James Potter' it had not been such a compliment after all.

"I thought my father was cold, heartless and cruel. It killed me to hear him tell my mother that it was because of 'merely the fact that you existed' he tortured you."

Harry's voice cracked, and he fought back tears as he struggled to go on. Eyes smarting, voice shaking he continued.

"You can't imagine the hurt I felt when I saw the hate in my mother's eyes for him. I began to wonder if the only reason she married him was because he forced her into it. I don't know if you can understand how it feels to learn that someone you have looked up to your whole life was a complete jerk.

"I talked to Sirius and Remus that night. They explained everything to me- about how he had changed later on. But that still doesn't change the way he had _been_."

Harry's eyes overflowed, and tears ran down his cheeks. Ashamed, he attempted to wipe them away before pressing on.

"You thought I would run and tell everyone what I had seen. You thought I would make you a laughingstock. You thought wrong. I had no desire to admit to anyone what I had seen. And do you know why?"

Snape moved his eyes back and forth, left to right, as if to signify his answer of 'no'.

"Because I know what it feels like to be pointed and laughed at. I know what it feels like to be made fun of in the middle of a crowd. I know what it feels like to have the only people you know to be family make your life miserable and beat you down every day of your life."

Harry paused, and then boldly stated,

"I know what it feels like to be you."

Picking up his Pensieve, he raised it to Professor Snape's face. Upon contact with his skin, the man was sucked into Harry's worst memories. Memories of being locked in his cupboard. Memories of never having a proper birthday let alone presents. Memories of being beaten up by Dudley and his friends. Memories of never having any friends of his own.

After several brief glances into the Pensieve to see which memory the Professor was currently viewing, Harry used his wand to pull the man out. Once Professor Snape landed on the floor, Harry removed the binding and silencing charms from him. Staring the man boldly in the face, Harry was surprised at the reaction that met his eyes.

Severus Snape had tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, too, Potter," he whispered.

And then he Disapparated.

Harry composed himself after the shock of someone like Severus Snape apologizing to someone like him- Harry Potter, and then came back down to the kitchen to rejoin the remaining guests at his birthday party. A few more hours went by, and the last callers (unsurprisingly Fred and George Weasley) left the house.

Ron, Ginny and Hermione helped Harry gather his gifts and bring them up to his room. Although not in attendance (much to everyone's disappointment), Albus Dumbledore had sent a gift along with Minerva- nothing other than a pair of Wool Socks. Harry chuckled to himself at the bemused expressions on everyone's faces when he had opened that particular gift. Thinking back to his first year at Hogwarts, he remembered one of his first of many encounters with the school's Headmaster. Alone in the room housing the Mirror of Erised, Harry had asked the wizened wizard what he saw when he looked into the glass? The ever mysterious Albus had replied- 'I see myself holding a pair of wool socks.' Harry had realized all too late just how personal his inquiry had been, and resolved to think more before asking questions there on out.

"What's with the socks, Har?" giggled Hermione.

Harry shrugged, and carefully executed his answer. He didn't really find it appropriate to repeat his conversation with the Headmaster from first year, especially since he often still wondered whether or not his mentor had been entirely truthful.

"Well, Hermione, you know Dumbledore. Sometimes he does stuff that no one understands. I'm sure he has a reason."

The group laughed, bade one another good night, and settled in for a good night's sleep.

The weeks after Harry's birthday passed on, and together the students began slowly packing their trunks for the return to Hogwarts. Late one evening, when Harry had snuck down to the Library to pack the chess set (he was planning on practicing once he was back to school. Ginny had offered to give him lessons in private so one day he could perhaps beat Ron.), he noticed a strange, oddly shaped package lying on the old Mahogany desk.

Setting down the chess set, he walked over to the desk and picked up the package. He saw a small card had been lying underneath it, picked it up and began to read.

_Dear Potter,_

_Your elf (as well as the Headmaster) informed me of your 'late night wandering habits' and said that the Library would be the best place to leave your gift. _

_I wanted to say thank you for opening my eyes to see beyond the past. Hindsight may be 20/20, but looking through it too often can be damaging. I trust you will remember that in the near future._

_I also trust that our newfound… understanding… shall not be flaunted, as it would be damaging to both our reputations._

_Happy Birthday._

_Respectfully Yours,_

_S. Snape _

Rereading his letter so as to make sure he had really received it, Harry smiled in spite of himself. Opening the small package, he gasped in awe in spite of himself.

"Wow, Professor," he breathed.

In his hands lay a tiny green and golden ball of fluff, sitting on a collapsed stand filled with ashes and a book entitled "Phoenixes".

Returning to his room and setting the Phoenix on its perch, Harry re-read the letter Professor Snape had written him once again.

'_He and I are almost alike in some ways,' he thought. 'He knows there's no way I'd tell anyone- especially Malfoy- about this. Who knows… maybe Potions won't be so bad after all.'_


	12. Subconscious Reprecussions and Secret Re

**A/N: **Thank you SOOO much to everyone that has reviewed! I love reading what you have to say! Also, thanks for the numerous emails! Sorry it's taken so long to update- that's why I'm giving u 3 in a row. I hope it was worth the wait.As far as DD and his scar are concerned- that one goes out to anyone who noticed the same thing in the movies about the HEadmaster that I did. It's SUPER weird, isn't it? You can totally see it. So- I decided to incorporate it into my story, and spin a yarn as to why I think it's there.

Also, just fyi, the way "my" story ends is really NOT how I think JKR will end the real novels. I just used creative lisence to interpret the prophecy to make it fit for me. I have a completely different theory as to what will really happen. Anyway- thanks so much for being patient while my computer was kaputt. Now that it's back, I can start working on the "sequel to the sequel".

Here's a question for all my readers- what should the title be? Should I go with 'half blood prince' or should I make an original one? Your votes decide. Leave some comments and I'll let you know what it ends up as!

Now... enough babbling- ON WITH THE STORY!

**Chapter 12: Subconscious Repercussions and Secret Revelations**

As Harry snuggled deeper under the covers, he was asleep even before Ron had returned from the girls' room. His thoughts turned to the past few weeks and all their happenings. His first ever birthday party had been a success, and he knew he would think of it fondly for years to come. As he fell into slumber, his REM cycle seemed to be approaching at a rate faster than the Hogwarts Express. His unconscious mind ran through the skills it had learned in Occlumency, and hoped there would be no breach tonight. After painstakingly smoothing out any possible cracks in the mind of the Boy Who Lived, his unconscious mind seemed satisfied, and allowed Harry to drift into dreamland.

_He was walking down a deserted hallway- it was dark. The torches seemed to be just dying embers instead of their normal bright and friendly flickers. An impulse struck him, and he raised his wand hand._

'_Occaeco__Lumos,' he muttered, almost inaudibly._

_Instantly, light flared at the tips of his fingers- only this light was an insipid violet instead of golden, like when he used his wand. Moving stealthily down the unrecognizable corridor, he made out a painting at the end where it forked off. Although in his mind's eye he understood that he had never seen the corridor before, he moved with a purpose, as if he had done it a million times before- and not only in his sleep._

_Silently, like a ghost, he glided down the passage toward the painting. Once closer, he made a note of its soft, meticulous brushstrokes, and memorized the vision before him. _

'_Acclaro Arcanus Conclave,' this time, he spoke only with his mind, and the painting noiselessly rotated on its hanging, opening to a small indentation in the wall._

_He stepped into the roughly hewn rock seat, and the painting revolved closed around him. Emerging on the other side, he gracefully stepped down into a glorious room containing more wonders to the imagination than those that simply met the eye. All around him stood shelves, some mounted on the walls, others hovered at the precise height of the viewer in the middle of the span, and still others seemed to defy all known laws of gravity as they remained effortlessly attached to the ceiling by some unrecognizable force._

_Once again, using only his mind, he chanted, 'Fluito Clueo,' and felt himself rising off the floorboards._

_Upon reaching the desired sill on the ceiling, he reached out towards the item he had come for. The single item that would be His undoing. Smiling to himself, he whispered,_

'_Cunctor Finite Fluito Incatatem.'_

_Slowly, he lowered to the floor, treasure in hand. With a wave of his hand, and a silent shout from his mind of 'Levitanto', he lifted slightly off the floor once more. An additional flick of his wrist, and "Debello" opened itself to the proper page. His face contorted as he took in the vision before him._

'_This cannot be…'_

"Harry? HARRY! Wake up, mate!"

A teenaged, raven-haired boy jolted out of his sleep and nearly fell out of bed at the tug his redheaded friend was giving him on his arm.

"Whassamatter!" he asked, sleepily, pulling his blankets closer around him. There seemed to be a cold breeze blowing up from underneath them.

"Harry, STOP IT! You're scaring me!" Ron cried, his voice shaking with fear.

Cursing to himself, and to Ron for waking him in the middle of the night, the black haired boy reached over to his nightstand for his glasses- only to find that he could no longer reach said table. In fact, he could no longer reach anything. Anything, that is, except the ceiling, if he stretched his arm out far enough.

_CRASH._

"Ron? What's wrong? Are you all ri- HARRY!" screamed another redhead, only this time from the doorway.

"What in the name of Merlin are you DOING up there?"

Harry was beginning to get annoyed. He couldn't see, for some reason it felt like the ceiling was a lot closer than it should be, and his bum was _extremely _frigid now that he was starting to wake completely.

"What are you TALKING about? I can't see a thing. Can someone hand me my glasses?"

Saved, once again, by the quick thinking Muggle-born, Harry blindly reached for his glasses. With them on, he looked around, and for the first time realized why everyone was so concerned.

_He was levitating four feet off of his mattress._

"Harry?" asked Hermione, in a squeak. "How on earth did you get up there?"

"I don't care HOW he got up there, 'Mione, just make him get DOWN! He's FREAKING ME OUT!" yelled Ron, at his wit's end.

Strangely enough, the only people in the room that seemed to be unconcerned about the predicament were Harry himself, and the painting of Phineas Nigellus on the wall- one of Hogwarts' previous Heads. In fact, the past Headmaster was snickering quite loudly.

"Well well, Mr. Potter. Fancy that. Your head finally has gotten enough hot air inside it to make you levitate. Hehehe. Wait 'til Professor Snape hears this- my my, will he have a hoot."

"Bugger off, will you!" cried Ginny, getting more distressed by the second as she unsuccessfully attempted to pull Harry back down.

"Better yet," added Hermione, beginning to get rather irritated herself, "why don't you scamper off and find Dumbledore? Make yourself useful."

The painting 'harrumphed,' but disappeared into the molding, presumably off to find the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The remaining habitants of the room at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, however, began to argue quite profusely. On the ceiling, Harry had a hard enough time interpreting the random outbursts, much less attempting to fit a word in edgewise.

"-How in the WORLD?"

"-Do you think Dumbledore will be able to get him down?"

"-Is that a _Phoenix_!"

"Hello?" came a feeble attempt from the ceiling.

"-How long has he been UP there, Ronald?"

"-How am I supposed to know? I was sleeping!"

"-Where on earth did Harry get a _Phoenix_?"

"Guys?" another effort from this ceiling, this time with a slight annoyance behind it.

"-Well you think you might notice if your roommate is bobbing up and down next to the ceiling wouldn't you?"

"-I can't believe it's lasting this long. You think it would have worn off by now, I mean, logically…"

"HEY!" Harry yelled. He'd had enough. "I know how to get-"

Another slam from the door being thrown into the wall, and an ear-splitting shriek from Mrs. Weasley cut him off mid-sentence.

"Of all the- WHAT IS GOING ON IN—HARRY! Oh, good gracious! How in the name of Merlin did you- Oh, God! Where is Dumbledore? How did this happen? RONALD WEASLEY- WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!"

"MUM! It wasn't me!"

Amidst all the commotion, none of the party noticed the swift return of a smirking Phineas to his painting on the wall. Much less did they observe the silent Apparation (and laughter) of Albus Dumbledore in the hallway just outside the open door.

"Oh don't try and pull the wool over my eyes, Ronald. This is not funny. You get him down THIS INSTANT! I can't believe you'd pull a stunt like this- not for him just locking you in that wardrobe! Honestly, Ronald, in all my years- even with Fred and George, I NEVER-"

"Um, Mrs. Weasley? Don't worry about it, I can-"

"Mum, I SWEAR, I had nothing to do with-"

"Don't you DARE lie to me, young man!"

"MUM!" cried Ginny, Ron, Harry and (surprisingly) Hermione, all in one voice.

"WHAT! Oh, um, sorry. Yes?"

"I can get down, you know," Harry replied simply, after Mrs. Weasley had ceased shrieking at the top of her lungs at her youngest son.

"How could you possibly know how to get down? You're not even of age! Even **_I_** don't know how to get you down!"

The party watched in awe, as Harry voiced an incantation none of them had ever heard before.

"_Cunctor Finite Fluito Incatatem."_

Slowly, but surely, the Boy Who Lived lowered to the floor and landed softly and evenly on both feet. Ginny ran to him, and embraced him, followed by bursting into tears. Pulling back, she punched him hard in the chest.

"OW!" Harry cried. "What was that for?"

"For scaring me out of my wits! Why didn't you tell us before that you knew how to get down?"

"I tried!" he cried, earnestly. "You guys weren't even paying attention because you were too concerned with the improbability of the situation to even use you heads, much less listen to me on the ceiling."

Massaging his chest, he added, meekly, "Hello, Professor Dumbledore. Sorry we woke you."


	13. Discussions With Dumbledore

**Chapter 13: Discussions with Dumbledore**

As one, the heads turned toward the foyer and took in the sight of the ancient wizard in a flowing white nightshirt, open purple dressing gown and fluffy pink bunny slippers whose noses twitched. Barely visible from behind the Headmaster's left knee were green tennis ball eyes that could only belong to Dobby the House Elf.

"Ah. No need for apologies, Mr. Potter, no need at all," the Headmaster replied, waving his hand airily in dismissal as he stepped into the room.

"Although I would like to inquire the reason for this joyous occasion at, what is it now?"

The elderly man removed a golden pocket watch from an inner pocket of his dressing gown, and took but a moment to peek at its twelve revolving hands.

"Well, very late indeed, anyway. Ah, I see you received your birthday present. I trust she is to your liking?"

"Professor, she's beautiful!"

Ron turned toward the stand, noticing it for the first time.

"Woah! Mate, is that a _Phoenix_?"

"Yeah, Harry!" added Hermione. "I saw it while you were on the ceiling."

"Ooh! Harry, wherever did you get one?" breathed Ginny, moving over to admire the rare bird.

Harry blushed profusely, not quite knowing what to say.

"Uh… um," he stuttered, "a friend. Yeah! Um, a friend gave him to me."

Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and Hermione's eyebrows raised as if to let Harry know that they knew he was withholding information, but fortunately, the chose to refrain from comment.

"Wow, mate! Some friend!" said Ron. "Wish I had a Phoenix."

Harry smiled, "Yeah… some friend. I'm glad he's around."

"Ah, well. I'm glad that particular situation has been remedied. So, moving on…" smiled the Headmaster, rubbing his hands together.

"Dobby?" he asked, turning to the House Elf with a twinkle in his eyes, "Would it be unkind of me to ask for a cup of tea? Or possibly a large brandy?"

"No, no Master Dumbledore! Dobby is getting it for him right away sir! Would you like a candy cane in the tea, like is normal, Mr. Dumbledore, sir?"

"Ah! Now that you mention it- yes, I would. A peppermint candy cane would be quite lovely at this time of night. Anyone else?" he inquired humbly.

Everyone in the room (except Harry, who was somewhat more used to Dumbledore's odd antics) shook their head with widened eyes.

"I'll have a mug, Dobby. And any of those special snicker doodle cookies you might have lying around, too."

"Splendid choice, Mr. Potter, if I do say so myself!" beamed Dumbledore.

Dobby disappeared with a crack, and the gazes of the four remaining members in the room turned back to Harry.

"Harry?" asked Hermione, attempting to tame her once again bushy hair. "How did you know how to get down? I've never heard that incantation in my life!"

"Yeah!" cried Ron, in outrage, turning away from the emerald and golden bird. "And how the heck did you get up there in the first place? 'Mione, isn't it like, impossible for wizards to levitate themselves?"

"Impossible, no," piped up Ginny. "But difficult, yes."

"It's true," added Mrs. Weasley, also tearing herself away from the magnificent animal to face the Headmaster. "Albus, am I right in saying that you are one of the few that can?"

Harry thought, if only for a second, that he might have seen a slight blush creep up onto the modest Headmaster's cheeks.

"Ah, well… I can, yes, but there are a lot more wizards than you think that are able to accomplish such a feat."

Hermione harrumphed, "Humph. Last time I checked there were only five listed."

"Yes," concurred Mrs. Weasley, "and that's in the last two hundred years, even."

"Ah. Well- there you go," replied Dumbledore, smiling and his eyes began to twinkle merrily.

"I take it that you are gathering more concepts of wandless magic through your dreams then, Mr. Potter?"

Harry smiled benignly, "It appears so, sir."

"Jolly good. We'll have to work on that, come start of term."

"Of course, Headmaster."

_Crack_

"The tea is ready, sirs and missuses!" beamed Dobby, as he popped back into the room.

"Splendid!" cried Dumbledore, rubbing his hands together. "Shall we adjourn to the kitchen then? I think a nice spot of tea might soothe us over a bit before we turn in again for the night, am I right?"

The awestruck Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Ginny and Ron silently nodded and followed Dobby to the kitchen, leaving Harry and Professor Dumbledore trailing behind them, the Headmaster's pink bunny slippers squeaking each step of the way.

"_Several _more wizards that could self-levitate, Professor?" Harry inquired, with a smirk. "Are you sure you weren't stretching the truth a little bit there?"

Gazing down at his self-admitted (although only self-admitted) protégé, Albus smiled.

"Not entirely, Mr. Potter, not entirely. You see, Molly and Hermione only know of wizards that have been documented in the Ministry of Magic's records in the last two hundred years. I happen to know that there truly are several more than those currently listed."

"Ah. So several means more than two- two specifically meaning a 'couple'."

Dumbledore beamed, surprised at how perceptive the young man had become since they had last spoken.

"That is precisely what I mean, Harry. Several, matter of factly, meaning four. Those four being Merlin himself, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin and Andromeda Ancrofellen.

"So, you see, I was not fibbing. But you are correct in the fact that the intent was to make your friends believe that you are still "normal". Normal, in a sense, that is, so they won't begin to resent you because they feel magically inferior to you. You understand why I would do such a thing, am I right, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded, grimly. "Of course. Nobody likes to hang around a showoff. Why do you think Malfoy has so few friends?"

Dumbledore diplomatically chose to abstain from comment on Harry's last statement. However, as they journeyed down the steps towards the kitchen, he spoke once again.

"Harry, I'm sorry to say, but sooner or later I will have to ask you what caused you to be able to tap into your power of self-levitation."

"I understand, sir. We'll talk soon, I imagine."

"I'm sure we will, Mr. Potter. My! How thoughtless of me to forget. Happy belated 16th Birthday, Harry."

Shocked, Harry paused in his steps down to the rest of Grimmauld Place's inhabitants that were in the kitchen.

"You know when my birthday is, Professor?"

"Come now, Harry. Do you think I could possibly forget, you being who you are, even without an invitation to your party? Which, by the way, I am deeply sorry I could not attend. There was an urgent matter at the Ministry with Cornelius."

"Oh? How did that go?"

"I am proud to say that I barely needed mention the contents of what you told me Miss Umbridge had done at school before she packed her bags and walked out of the Ministry. Well, more like _ran_, but, I dare say that she did not want to have to deal with me bringing you or anyone else in for an eye-witness account against her."

Blushing, Harry lowered his head and began to walk again.

"No, I suppose not. I guess it's just strange for me. Earlier this week Mrs. Weasley nearly had a heart attack when _I_ didn't even realize that my birthday was coming up."

"Well, when one has memories of birthdays such as you have, it's no wonder that the date might slip your mind."

"I suppose so. I just didn't understand why she was so upset about it. I mean, honestly, it's just a birthday."

"Well, Harry, I think that is something that can only be answered by time. Wait a few years- or maybe thirty. After you're used to having your birthday being celebrated, if it's forgotten it's almost as if your entire universe is thrown for a loop."

"I guess I'll just have to wait for that one."

The headmaster grinned, "Well, Harry, good things come to those who wait."

Harry flashed him a malicious grin. "Kind of like those fluffy pink bunny slippers, right Professor?"

Albus laughed, and looked down at his slipper-clad feet.

"Ah, yes. Flopsy and Mopsy. I named them after the characters in that lovely little Muggle book "Peter Cottontail". They've served me well over the years."

Harry snorted, "You can't be serious?"

Albus looked hurt, "Why yes, Harry. I really did name them. Lots of people name their stuffed animals. Is that so hard to believe?"

Harry looked up, eyes wide- he had not meant to offend.

"No, sir! I just meant that you couldn't possibly be serious about reading "Peter Cottontail"! You really read Muggle children's books? I mean- newspapers is one thing, but books for children?"

The elderly man grinned sheepishly in was that was not completely unlike the way Harry grinned when caught at something.

"Ah, yes. I rather enjoy Muggle fairy tales, too. It's fascinating at the way they love to incorporate magic into everything, but if there's magic in a story then it is automatically assumed to be impossible. I find it ingenious the way they can ignore something so blatant."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Bunny slippers. I cannot believe I have seen my Headmaster in BUNNY SLIPPERS that squeak and have noses that wiggle."

"Yes, they're a rather lovely gift," mused Albus, fondly glancing down at his fluffy pink footwear.

"Minerva got them for me two years ago for my birthday. I reckon she thought them 'sweet', and the castle is so drafty sometimes. Either that, or the rest of the staff convinced her to buy them as a joke. Little did she know how much I needed a new pair of slippers."

Harry giggled. "Professor, you never cease to amaze me."

"Well thank you, Mr. Potter. I certainly do try to keep my students interested. Now, shall we adjourn for tea?"

"Of course," smiled Harry, holding the door open and allowing the older man to enter the kitchen in front of him.

Shaking his head, he silently snickered to himself, "_Bunny slippers. Honestly, who knew?"_


	14. Predictions of The Last Potter

**A/N:** I'd just like to thank everyone (ESPECIALLY my readers that found me here from Mugglenet) for reading my story, and I'm sorry that I wasn't able to reply to your reviews and answer your questions. I'll try to do that in the next story or- if you prefer- you can just email me through the site.  
I have 4 chapters finished for the "sequel to the sequel", and I'm still looking for a title. If your could review with suggestions, I would be most appreciative, there's only one chapter after this left! I know, I know, you're all SOOO disappointed, aren't you? (j/k). It's either you guys give me a title, or it's going to be called "The Half-Blood Prince". And honestly,how unoriginal is that? lol.**  
**There's one chapter for "SaGP" remaining, and I should post the entry chapters to the third part sometime soon. Look for fairly regular updates after that. I realized that I can't be... confined... to writing chapters in order- I just don't work that way. But, sooner or later (lately, it's been sooner) the muse strikes and I get some 'filler chapters' in between the 'main events'. The only thing I can offer to you for advice on the next story is- _Hang on to your Chocolate Frog Cards:-)_**  
**

Love always,

thebartender713

**Chapter 14: Predictions of "The Last Potter"**

"So what did you want to tell me, Hermione?" asked Harry, apprehensively.

A succession of time had passed once again, and- other than Harry losing a few more times to Ron at chess and Tonic and Crookshanks spewing up hairballs into Mrs. Weasley's slippers- once again, it was quite uneventful. After having to go through the whole embarrassing ritual of Ron's 'I am the Chess Master' song and dance routine once again, Hermione had asked Harry for a word in private one afternoon before their last unhurried meal together before the return to Hogwarts to following morning. They retreated to the library, and sat down. Hermione bit her lip, and began to speak.

"Well, Harry, I've been thinking, and-"

"You? THINKING? NO!"

His best friend laughed.

"Yes, I know. Sometimes I hurt myself doing it, but I was real careful this time and so I'm ok."

Harry couldn't help but smile. Hermione's sense of humor had improved greatly over the summer during their time at Grimmauld Place, and he was glad that they could joke about sensitive subjects. Sometimes, Harry thought, it seemed that humor was the only thing that was pulling him through these days.

"So what did you figure out?"

"Well- I was thinking about the um, well, the Prophecy, and I um… Well, I think I might have figured out a little 'play on words' in it."

Harry was skeptical. He knew that Hermione was probably the smartest witch in Hogwarts ('_ok, more like our entire generation,' he thought_), but somehow he wasn't sure that even she could have picked up something that both he **and** the Headmaster had missed.

"Ok. Well… what is it?"

Hermione's eyes lit with a passion that only was revealed when she had just learned a really juicy bit of knowledge from one of her numerous books.

"Well, I was thinking about how it seems to repeat itself- the first and last lines. I kept saying them over and over to myself in my head, and I realized that although they ARE similar, they do have some distinct differences."

Harry raised an eyebrow, although this time it was out of interest, not skepticism.

"Ah. And?"

She smiled, her inner fire rekindled by Harry's evident attention.

"Ok. The first line: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… _

"That just says that someone with the power to finish off Voldemort is coming near. So, in all logic, it really could just mean that he (or she) is approaching the room that Professor Trelawney and Professor Dumbledore are currently in."

"Hermione…" Harry interrupted tentatively. "Are you sure that you're not just so anxious to help that you're stretching this a little bit _too_ far?"

"I know, I know!" she cried, though not losing her excitement. "But just listen- there's more!"

Once again, Harry raised a tentative eyebrow. "All right, 'Mione. I'm listening. Give me all you've got."

"Ok- the second line:_ Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

"That somewhat changes the possible interpretations of the first line. I mean, all this time I was keeping those lines together- as if they were one sentence. But they're really not. It's almost a completely different train of thought. So, to me, this part says that a wizard (or witch, because at this point it's still gender neutral)- A wizard, but not necessarily THE wizard will be born to a set of parents that have defied Voldemort three times, and he will be born towards the end of July. That doesn't necessarily mean July 31st, just any time after the 15th, since that would constitute half of the month being over- thus, it "dying". I think that you were just exceptional and extreme in this case, being born on the actual 'dying day'.

"I got a little stuck here, because, I mean, we don't really know what your or Neville's parents did that would be considered "defying him". That, and I didn't know of any other wizards born after the halfway point in July. Well, excluding those roadblocks, I went on.

"Line three: _And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…_

"Ok, literally this says that Lord Mouldy-Shorts marks the baby as his equal. Equal as in WHAT, we don't know though, do we? Equal in like, intelligence, power, evilness, blood, or what? We don't know! The only thing I could come up with is the fact that you can do a lot of things he can- Parseltongue, wandless magic, etc. And then there's the bit about power- if you're essentially EQUAL, how could you have a power that he doesn't know about?

"So that kind of made me think. What could **you** _possibly_ have that could constitute as power, but the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to know it- that is, to know as in _understand_? Dumbledore always said that if there's one thing that Voldemort doesn't understand- and therefore underestimates- it's LOVE. That makes me think that your "power the Dark Lord knows not" has something to do with love, or friendship even."

Harry gasped and leaned forward, now eager to hear more. He _hadn't_ thought about the Prophecy in the light Hermione was raising it, and he was willing to bet his own 'Family Portrait' from Dobby the House Elf that Dumbledore hadn't either.

"Line four: _And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives._

"Well, of all, I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. Either you or Voldemort must die at the hand of the other. But that raises another question. Could the "other" be someone in fact OTHER than yourselves? This one had me going for quite some time. I mean- I was thinking about Neville being the possible other, since he was the other possibility to be "marked" since he was born at the end of July as well. I'm still a little stuck on that one, but it also seems to be thrown off a little by the last line a bit, too.

"Line five: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

"It seems like the first line repeats, but in a way it doesn't. The first line just says that the one with the "power" approaches, while this line says "WILL be born as the seventh month dies." This one holds no gender reference. It could be anyone, Harry- even NOT you!"

Hermione was breathless, but she finished her analysis triumphantly. Harry just gaped at her. There had been one other time where he had gotten a brief glimpse of just HOW much effort his friend put into her homework. That had been the time their third year when she had looked up every Animagus on the Ministy of Magic's register, just to see how many had done it and who they were. Now he had gotten the full force of the power of Hermione's mind.

"_Wow_, '_Mione_," he gasped, "I can't _believe_ how much thought you put into this. Thanks. I really appreciate it. The whole 'love' thing as the power makes sense, but I mean- how can you show or use 'love' as a power? That's impossible."

Hermione shook her head. "It's really not, Harry. Can you think of NO way to show love?"

Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but snicker. "'Mione, if you think I'm going to go up and snog Voldemort then you've got some serious issues!"

Hermione laughed with him, but continued to shake her head. "No, Harry! Come on think deeper than that! Can you think of no physical action that constitutes love?"

Racking his brains, Harry couldn't bring himself to think of anything, unless…

"Well, I mean, there's the whole self-sacrifice thing. I mean- my mother sacrificed herself for me. I guess that would be love. If it's not, then I don't know what is."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about Harry!" Hermione beamed.

Harry's jaw dropped at his friend. Had she seriously lost her mind?

"Um, hello? Earth to 'Mione. I'm not a woman! I can't do the whole 'motherly love' thing."

"That's true, Harry, but you're missing a crucial point. What's the ONE thing a woman needs to become a mother?"

"Um, sperm, hello?"

"DUH. That's the ACT I'm talking about, Harry."

"The act of sperm swimming?" asked Harry, stupidly.

"NO!" cried Hermione, frustratedly smacking herself in the forehead. "Harry come ON! You honestly have no idea what I'm talking about?"

"No. But thanks for making me feel like a complete imbecile," he admonished, good-naturedly.

Now it was Hermione's turn for her jaw to drop.

"Harry? Do you mean that you and Ginny NEVER… um, you know?"

Shocked, Harry stuttered, "What? Oh, no! Um, I mean, uh, no… We never have. Why? What does that have to do with anything? I mean, other than the whole baby making thing?"

"Oh Harry!" cried Hermione, exasperatedly. "Everything! Think about it- a _baby_ is the only _physical product_ of love! I mean, when a man and woman have sex it's so much MORE than that sometimes. I mean- just the feeling, it's completely different. You can totally feel the change and it's just amaz-"

Hermione gasped, and stopped mid-sentence, her face changing drastically from pale to bright red upon the realization of what she had unintentionally just let slip. She hoped Harry wouldn't have caught it- but in fact, as Harry cared to notice- Hermione's face was about as red as Ron's hair. It was a dead giveaway.

"Ooohh!" he teased, "So you and Ron, eh? Niiiice. I'll be sure to congratulate him on that. Took him long enough to get the gall to ask you out. I'm surprised, really. Pleasantly, but surprised all the same."

Hermione, if possible, seemed to turn an even brighter shade of magenta.

"Oh- you have no idea. Ron has it coming to him. After all those things he said to me about Cho Chang… you can't even begin to imagine."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "You're right. I **don't** want to know. But anyway- back to the point."

"Kill joy," muttered Harry, scuffing his foot on the rug.

"The whole act of lovemaking- that act of reproducing, making an heir. I can think of no better way than that to tap your power. If you know what it's like to experience undying love and devotion, then I think that would help you harness your power."

"Ah. Then the bastard almost had me right from the start then- albeit, unknowingly."

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"It's like Ron said- 'when it comes to mums, I've got a lot to learn'. I've never known undying love and devotion because Voldemort-"

Despite a hard effort, Harry began to choke on his words,

"Because he killed my parents before I even had a chance to get to know them. Before I even had the chance to feel how much they loved me. The closest thing I've ever felt to a mother's love was when Mrs. Weasley hugged me after I woke up from the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry sniffed, and attempted to wipe his nose and eyes in one swift, hopefully unseen movement. He was unsuccessful. Under that all-knowing gaze of Hermione, she caught it all. But unlike with Ron- when it came to Harry, she knew exactly how to comfort him. Pulling him into a warm hug, she rubbed his back, and just let him talk.

"I never knew what it felt like to be hugged by someone who loved me just because I was… well, ME. Not because I was "The Boy Who Lived", or "Triwizard Dual Champion", but just because they loved me. All my faults, inadequacies, everything. Voldemort almost had me from the start- and I don't think he even realizes it."

Pulling out of Hermione's comforting embrace, he gave her a thankful smile.

"But if you think I'm going to shag the closest thing to a mum I've got, then you really HAVE gone nutters, Hermy."

Using her thumb to wipe away the few traces of tears on the Boy Who Lived's face, Hermione laughed.

"Honestly, Harry," she sniffed, "I think you are the **only** person in the world (other than _Grawp_) that can call me 'Hermy' and get away with it. Anyone else would be hexed on the spot."

"You really think this could help, though, don't you? This whole learning how to love, and be loved, and having a baby?"

She nodded. "I don't know if it's foolproof, Harry, but I mean, it couldn't HURT, could it? Besides, if you were to… um, well, _not…_"

"Survive?" he supplied, bluntly.

"Well, yeah. If something were to go… um, _wrong_ when it came to the final showdown between you and Voldemort, I could think of no one else that would have a possible chance at defeating him other than one of _your heirs_."

He sighed. "Yeah. Good point."

"So what are you going to do?"

"What? Are you expecting me to just walk up to Ginny and be all: _'look, baby, you sweet thang, Hermione thinks we should shag because it will help me defeat Voldemort. Yeah, that's right you sexy thang, you heard me. I need your lovin' because it's my secret supremacy. I just found out. I want you to help me harness that power through a night of unbridled passion!'_ Call me crazy, Hermy, but somehow I don't think Gin's gonna go for that one."

Hermione snorted. "HA! You've got that right. I know if Ron would have approached me like that he would have just gotten a swift kick in the-"

"Don't want to think about it!" yelled Harry, curling up defensively in protection of himself.

"Anyway, I imagine these things take time. I mean, I would think that it's just something that 'happens', not something you plan."

Hermione smiled knowingly, and a distant glow captured her gaze. "It's true. Ron and I… well, I know you don't want the intimate details, but- you're right. It just… happened. And it was beautiful. I mean, I won't even bother asking if you're sure you want it to be Ginny- I've known from **day one** that you two were meant to be.

"But it's going to take time, I won't deny that. I mean, I do think that you should tell her sometime soon. I mean, she would have to be a willing participant- especially if it's going to result in a new 'Last Potter'."

"Yeah. That's gonna be a tough one. Well, I think there's really only one thing I can do right off."

"What's that?"

"Call Dumbledore."

Turning to leave the library, Harry reflected on everything his friend had said and suddenly began to snicker.

"What's so funny?" asked Hermione.

"Hermy, did I really just hear you refer to Lord Voldemort as '_Lord **Mouldy-Shorts'**_?"

Hermione giggled. "Yeah. That's what I've been calling him around Ron because he **still** flinches when you say 'Voldemort'. So I changed it to 'Mouldy-Shorts' to get him to quit."

Harry's laughter was coming in gales now, and he was gasping for breath.

"HA! 'Mouldy-Shorts'. I can't WAIT to say that to old Tom's face. Hehehe, 'Mouldy-Shorts'."

Together, arms around each other's shoulders, Hermione and Harry headed down to the kitchen for dinner, laughing all the way.


	15. Intuitive Actions and Innocent Alcoves

**Chapter 15: Intuitive Actions and Innocent Alcoves **

Harry slept uneasily that night, weighing out what Hermione had said. At first, when reflecting upon her interpretation of the prophecy, the only thought that came to mind was _'that's it. 'Mione's finally cracked. All that knowledge she's accumulated over the years has turned her brain to mush. Mental, that one'_. After many more ponderings, hours and distressed pleadings from Ron to stop tossing and turning so he could get to sleep, Harry finally rose, donned his dressing gown and began pacing the hallway on the third floor, his thoughts moving far faster than his legs could carry him. He needed to do something, and his gut told him that taking a wander might help calm his frazzled nerves enough that he could sleep.

'_What am I going to do? How am I supposed to tell Ginny? I mean, supposedly Dumbledore knows everything- but I don't think that even HE would be able to give me advice as to how to go about this.'_

Harry snorted to himself.

'_Honestly, the whole 'look, Gin, Hermione's gone and interpreted the Prophecy and she thinks that if we shag it will help me tap into my secret 'love' power to defeat Voldemort' approach is beginning to look a lot more likely._

'_Oh shit. I don't even know the first thing about sex. I mean- saying cute things to flatter girls and picking out nice gifts for birthdays and Christmas are no problem, but… actually giving my all to her like that? And asking for it in return? You've got to be kidding me- Ginny would never. I don't deserve her. What in the name of Merlin made me even THINK that she would consider being with me like that? She's **Ginny Weasley**, for crying out loud! I'm surprised she even give me the time of—'_

A distinct movement at the end of the hall stopped Harry's midnight thoughts dead in their tracks. Instinctively, he pulled his wand from its inside pocket underneath his dressing gown.

"Who's there?" he asked, much more boldly than he felt.

"_Harry_?" whispered an equally false in the bravery department voice.

"Gin? Is that you?"

Harry rushed over to her, and pulled her into an embrace.

"What are you doing up this late?"

Ginny snorted. "I think I'm inclined to be asking the same question of yourself, Mr. Potter."

"Oh. I, uh, um… Sleepwalking?" he replied, stupidly.

The disheveled redhead giggled, and took the black haired boy's hand, leading him into one of the master bedrooms.

"Come on- let's talk in here. I don't want to risk waking up any of the other midnight 'sleepwalkers' in this place."

Heading towards the nearest bedchamber, Harry found it was one of many that he had never been in. Looking at the walls that were reflecting the moonlight, he saw that they were masterfully painted in a mural fashion. Each wall had its own part of a landscape, more specifically, a bay at sunset. Harry noticed that it looked like some of the Muggle photos taken where the foreground image looked blackened against the fiery oranges, yellows and reds of the background sunset. The sun itself was painted on the westernmost wall, and each wall surrounding it showed it fading into the night with a full moon, which was pictured on the eastern partition. Harry and Ginny both stopped to admire the way the paint seemed to fade perfectly into the alternating scene- a work that surely was no easy feat. The walls seemed to be enchanted so that if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear the soft lapping of the distant waves on the sand.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," whispered Ginny, reverently.

Harry opened his mouth to reply that he could think of something (or, more particularly, some_one_) that was more beautiful than this room, but he elected not to reply.

He smiled. "It is. We'll have to explore over Christmas Holiday and see what other rooms are here. We can pick a favorite once we've seen them all."

Unable to withhold his curiosity any longer, he turned to Ginny.

"So what's up? Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

"No."

"What's on your mind? Anything I can help with?" he asked concernedly.

She sighed deeply. "No, I suppose not. I mean- it's about you, of course, so I don't really know what you could do."

"Gin, you're not still letting the Prophecy bother you, are you?"

"No," she lied, although she knew it was useless.

"Ah. I see. Would it help if I told you that it's the same reason I couldn't sleep?"

He was rewarded with a small smile. "Maybe."

Harry sat down on the bed and waved his hand, causing the torches to light dimly.

"Wow," Ginny breathed, "you're really getting the hang of that whole wandless magic thing, aren't you?"

Harry grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, but it's only the little things, really. But sometimes, it's enough. Sit with me?"

It was a request, not an order, and Ginny knew as such. Smiling, she perched herself next to the wizard that was so much more than she had ever hoped he would be. Snuggling closer to him, together they leaned back on the pillows and made themselves comfortable, Ginny's head resting on Harry's chest while he smoothed her bed-rumpled hair. Ginny couldn't help but sigh and smile with pleasure at the boy's gentle and caring caress. She couldn't explain it, but she knew that when she was in Harry's arms she felt completely at ease with the world- as if nothing could touch her. She loved that feeling.

As she melted into his touch, all her worries seemed to fade. Thoughts of Voldemort, the prophecy, living up to the standard that Hermione had set for the female Gryffindor Prefects, everything- all seemed to just melt away when she was with Harry. They lay there together, holding each other, until Harry noticed that Ginny was slightly shivering. She hadn't bothered to put on a dressing gown, as she didn't think she would be out of her room this long.

"Gin?"

"Yeah?"

"You're cold. Do you want me to take you back to your room?"

She paused. In this moment, she didn't want to be anywhere other than in the arms of Harry James Potter. Taking a moment, she weighed the risks. She knew they were going back to Hogwarts in the morning, and so everyone would be up extra early. If her and Harry fell asleep together there could be dire consequences, no matter how innocent it really was. Sighing, she made up her mind.

"Harry?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can we just stay here? It's just that, I know if I go back into my and Hermione's room I'll never get to sleep."

"She snores, doesn't she?" asked Harry, chuckling.

Ginny giggled, "Haha, yeah, actually, she does."

"No wonder her and Ron were meant for each other. His snores could wake the dead some nights, I swear it."

"Hehe. No, Hermione's not that bad, but it's still irritating sometimes. What I really meant, though, is that there's so much on my mind that I know I'd never fall asleep. But when I'm with you, I just relax right off. So could we just stay here tonight? I'd really appreciate it."

Harry just stared, not believing what his ears were telling him he heard.

"For me, Harry? Just this once?" she asked, almost pleading now.

Harry was surprised. He knew that he had a lot n his mind, but he now realized how selfish he was being by not thinking about how much this might be affecting Ginny. He made up his mind. It wasn't because he was feeling sorry for her, or that he was feeling guilty, but because he knew that he felt the same way. When he was holding Ginny in his arms, it felt like nothing could hurt him. A dawning of understanding unfolded in Harry's mind, and he answered.

"Of course, Gin. I think I need this just as much as you do."

She raised her head. "Really?"

"Yeah. When I'm with you, everything melts away. I never knew you felt that, too."

"Looks like we need each other more than we thought, huh?"

Harry smiled, and kissed her forehead, reflecting on his conversation about the Prophecy with Hermione earlier that day.

"You have no idea."

Standing up, he leaned over and whispered, 'wait here' and journeyed into the hallway to call Dobby. The elf appeared in an instant.

"Dobby," he whispered, "can you do me a favor, please?"

"Of course, Master Harry! Anything the master wishes, sir!" the elf replied, his voice at least three octaves higher than usual as he was whispering, too.

"Can you make sure to wake Ginny and I up before Mrs. Weasley and everyone else? I don't want us to get in trouble."

Dobby smiled knowingly. "Of course, Master Harry. Dobby is _proud_ to keep his secrets for his new master. I is hoping that you and Miss Ginny will help each other keep the nightmares away."

Harry looked at his house elf inquiringly, "How do you know about the nightmares, Dobby?"

The elf smiled, and then gazed down at his large toes.

"Dobby knows everything, sir. Dobby hopes sir won't think he is _sneaking_, but Dobby hears when Miss Ginny and Master Harry is talking in their sleep. So, Dobby goes to the room and tries to chase the dreams away with his magic."

The elf looked at his feet, and shuffled them in a way that Harry knew meant that he was scared he was in trouble.

"Sometimes it is not working, Master Harry. Sometimes Dobby can't make the dreams go away. Like the time when Dobby had to put the silencing spell on Master Harry and go get Master Dumbledore.

"Dobby was scared for Mister Potter, sir. Dobby… Dobby thought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was after his master. So Dobby went to get powerful Master Dumbledore to make it better."

Harry got down on one knee, and pulled the small creature into a warm embrace.

"Thanks, Dobby. You're one of the best friends a wizard could have. I was wondering why I wasn't having so many nightmares any more."

Dobby looked up, tears brimming in his tennis ball shaped eyes.

"Did Master… Did Master just call Dobby a- a…" the elf seemed unable to finish.

"A friend? Of course I did," said Harry, rising from the floor. "I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes, Dob."

The elf began to cry, but he restrained himself from his normally glass-shattering sobs. Attaching himself to Harry's knees, he began to sob into them.

"Oh! Master Harry is too good to Dobby! But Dobby will make sure that he and Miss Ginny are awake before the others, sir! Dobby is a good house elf, sir, and will never let Harry Potter down!"

"Thanks Dobby, and sorry I woke you."

"Not at all, Master Harry, not at all. Dobby is only happy to work for Mister Potter. Good night, sir!"

The elf pried himself off of Harry's kneecaps and scampered down the hall, simply skipping with joy. Harry smiled, and returned to the room where Ginny was waiting, now almost wide-awake on the bed.

"I take it you heard him then?" ask Harry, walking over to her.

"Yeah. I always wondered how the nightmares would just suddenly stop in the middle sometimes. He's really great, isn't he Har?"

"Yeah. I don't know what I'd do without him, really. Now, it's time for bed."

Harry walked over, and lifted up Ginny in his arms. With a movement of his head to the side, the blankets folded themselves down, and he laid her on the soft mattress.

"Geez, Gin, I'm surprised your mum isn't telling YOU to eat more! I didn't think you'd be _this_ light!"

She smiled as Harry pulled the blankets up to her chin, before climbing in beside her.

"Eh, fast metabolism. I had to have one with all those brothers. I could never keep up if I was fat. That and it's hard to get all the good food on the table with six brothers ahead of you in the line.

"Besides- it runs in the family. Look at Ron. He's super skinny and he eats almost non-stop."

"You've got a point there."

Harry raised his hand above the blankets, and slowly lowered it down, bringing with it the lights from the torches. Rolling onto his side, he brought his arm once again underneath the comforter, snuggled up behind Ginny and wrapped her in his embrace. She warmed to his touch, now sleepy again that he was back with her in bed.

"Good night, Ginny," he whispered.

"Good night, Harry. Sweet dreams."

He smiled, although she couldn't see since she was facing away from him.

"With you here? No need. I've got all my dreams come true."

Bringing themselves closer together under the covers, they soon fell into a sleep that was enviable: sweet, deep, long and happy. Tomorrow morning the Hogwarts Express would bring trials, adventures and friendships they never dreamed possible, but right then, it didn't matter a single bit.

Harry and Ginny had each other, and that was all they needed.


End file.
